We Who Must Stand Between (Philowen Aster)
by Bowser Jr's Descendant
Summary: Joseph Kalvary Thestanwen and his cousin Clarice infiltrate Yokai Academy at the behest of the Manitatsukarera, the Japanese branch of They Who Stand Between, a worldwide family dedicated to protecting mankind from supernatural beings.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_A Secret Mountain Temple, Japan_

It was a strange group that sat in a circle on the polished wood floor. One was an unusually large man, whose hand dwarfed his cup of fragrant tea. Next to him was a slender woman in a white kimono, her elaborate hairstyle thrust through with nearly a dozen ornamental pins. She tapped her long fingernails against the porcelain cup thoughtfully as she sipped. A slender man with especially slanted eyes ignored his tea, his hands in his lap and his eyes downcast. He almost seemed to be meditating, a great contrast to his cheerful neighbor, who drank eagerly—almost swigging it from the cup. His entire form was contradictory: his snapping black eyes and the cast of his face were Japanese, but his size, affected brogue, and shock of vibrant red hair told of an Irish heritage, as well.

The other three looked more human—but would have been out of place in most settings. The younger man looked like a samurai, from his kimono and hakama to his hair, swords and expression of grim calm. The woman sat bolt upright, her black hair swept severely away from her face, and her eyes and lips mirroring the severity of her hairstyle. She, too, ignored her tea—but she was most assuredly not meditating. None of the company would meet her eyes for more than a second, even the cheerful Irishman.

The final member of the group, a sweet-faced older gentleman, was the most normal-seeming. He sat properly in a crisp black suit, sipping his tea politely, but with obvious enjoyment. His graying hair was neatly combed, without trying to hide the bald spot on the crown of his head. The only thing strange about him was the staff propped against the wall behind him: not a cane, as an older gentleman might be expected to carry, but an actual wizard's staff, covered all along its oak length with strange runes and symbols. He faced the other four, flanked by the samurai and severe woman.

The gathering had been nearly silent for almost ten minutes after the tea was served. When the gentleman finally set down his cup and spoke, everyone else jumped.

"I am hoping the problem has been noticed by all of us here."

The slender man recovered first. He lifted his head and opened turquoise-blue eyes. "You speak of the strangers, Morisaki-_sama_?"

Morisaki nodded, his face grim. "I had hoped, when it was first noticed, that it would pass; but instead, the influx has grown stronger. More races from the Spirit World are filtering into human society every year."

The Irishman nodded, scowling. "Aye, I've noticed them, too. It's been worrying me. Not all yokai are under the Covenant(**1**)—and I've seen a few too many of those who aren't in my neck of the woods."

The silver-haired woman lowered her cup. "I knew that more of my mother's kindred were appearing in my village and in the areas around it, but I fear I did not worry. Her kind _are _under the Covenant—and my father made a treaty with them, as part of my mother's dowry. Still, it is not impossible to believe that some of them may think themselves exempt from both treaty and Covenant. I have been watchful."

"The _yuki-onna_ have not been our main concern," the other woman said calmly. She inclined her head to the silver one. "Still, your vigilance is appreciated, Akiko-_san_."

Akiko bowed at the waist. "Thank you, Kurohira-_sama_."

The huge man set his cup down, trying not to crack either it or the saucer with his monstrous fingers. "My kind do not mix with humans—voluntarily, at least. But I've seen groups of what could only be called _monsters _roaming in my territory." He grinned, showing off huge tusks. "Fortunately, no one questions it when an oni runs off interlopers. We've had no trouble." His smile slipped. "Yet. But there are rumors that I am, in fact, _Mani Ta Tsu Karera_...and once that's out, they'll use their exempt status to cause a great deal of trouble." He glanced over at the Irishman. "Your estranged kindred are causing me the most worry, Finn Hashiao."

Finn grimaced. "If it weren't for the fact that the old fellow practically put a 'shoot-on-sight' warrant on both myself and my mother, I'd help you more with that. I'd love to put the whole clan under the Covenant, believe me; what's going on is infuriating." He looked at his hand and sighed. "Though he's really no fool, and I don't think he'd attack a Manitatsukarera—even a renegade from his own clan—unless he thought he wouldn't get caught."

"That is troubling, but beside the point." Morisaki leaned forward. "The point is, we must learn where these races are coming from. Many of them have learned to imitate humans, almost as well as the Fae from other lands. But unlike the Fae, they have nothing to keep them under control, and numerous people may be in grave danger from them. Make no mistake." He thumped the floor for emphasis. "These are _not _kindly beings, and many resent that they must live in hiding. We must find out where they come from, and where they are getting their training."

The slender man laughed humorlessly. "You need not ask, Morisaki-_sama_, where they get their training. We already know, and it has been a thorn in our sides for years." He paused, then spoke two words. "Yokai Academy."

A mingled groan, growl, and mutter rose from the others, who exchanged grim looks and nodded. They knew. Oh yes, they had known about that place, ever since its founding. But there had been nothing they could do about it. Its headmaster was, at least in theory, an ally of the Manitatsukarera and their Covenant; and it could be claimed that its work—teaching monsters to live among humans—was beneficial. The truth? The truth was...a little more complicated, and grew more so every day, as students graduated from the academy and filtered out into the world, to become the strangers that Morisaki spoke of so grimly.

The samurai set down his cup and lifted his head for the first time. "There is a solution," he said in a soft, cultured voice—and a dialect not used for nearly two hundred years.

All eyes turned to him. Morisaki nodded. "Let us hear it, Shiro."

Shiro calmly folded his hands into his sleeves. "Yokai Academy must be infiltrated by the family."

There was silence as the others exchanged glances. Then Akiko sighed. "It won't work," she said glumly. "The Headmaster knows the Manitatsukarera. He keeps tabs on who marries into us, and even on our children. He would not accept my daughter, my Suzuto. He is far too careful for that."

"Ah, perhaps not." Morisaki lifted a finger. "He keeps tabs on the Manitatsukarera. But he cannot watch all of They Who Stand Between. Our family is worldwide; the Headmaster's interest does not extend past Japan. We must find someone—possibly two—who will seem monstrous enough to enter, yet be strong and brave enough to last..."

The oni and the slender man spoke at once. "America." They looked at each other and smiled, then the oni nodded. "You first, Furumiya."

He nodded, his silky hair swishing around his shoulders like water. "Thank you, Oko." He turned to face Shiro. "You say we must infiltrate Yokai Academy, and you, Akiko, say it is impossible. But in America, there are members of the family who will be perfect for such an endeavor." He hesitated. "I speak of the Demon-Seeming—and the Sceath(**2**)."

There was a pause as the other members absorbed this information—not without a finger of foreboding. The Demon-Seeming and the Sceath; they were known. It would be hard to find any member of the world-wide family who did _not _know about those two. The silence was finally broken by Oko.

"I thought of them, too. _They _are unsuitable; no one would believe that Breagan De'Alassae or Dranwyn Demon-Seeming is young enough to enter the school. But they have children: and the children may very well be the right age for our purposes."

"Perhaps," said Kurohira sharply, leaning forward so that a single lock of hair slid loose and brushed her cheek. "But will they agree to let their children go, as it were, into the tiger's lair?"

"If I am right," Furumiya met her eyes and held her gaze for the first time, "the children are themselves tigers—and stronger than those they will go among."

Morisaki clapped his hands. "We cannot quibble over details; this matter is too important." He rose stiffly to his feet, assisted by Shiro, and took his staff in hand. "Keep your eyes on the situation, and alert me at once if it seems to be getting out of hand. Akiko, you have connections to the school; I will send you word if the young Thestanwens are to be enrolled, and have you manage the paperwork. Furumiya, you will aid the children once they arrive. And I will go to America—now—and ask their parents if they shall permit this."

* * *

_A Small Town in America_

Joseph Kalvary Thestanwen dropped into a fighter's crouch, shifting his grip on the hilt of his bokken. Across from him, his father stood upright, waiting for the fight to begin, his bokken held loosely in a slack hand. Breagan looked as though he didn't care at all how the fight turned out.

But looks were deceiving. Breagan De'Alassae-Thestanwen was a Sceath—the most vicious of the various branches of Dark Elf. The fact that he had kept a good heart and a whole skin down in his backstabbing, murderous underground city until he was nearly twenty-five said a great deal about his skill with a blade. And during the twenty or so years since he'd escaped the underground caverns and come to the surface, his skill had been honed, improved—and some even claimed perfected.

In short: Breagan held the honestly-earned title of the best swordsman in at least two worlds. And his son knew it.

Joseph took a deep breath, mentally running over the strategy he'd devised, and desperately hoping he would be able to stick to it. There was only one sure prediction during his swordfighting lessons with his father: they ended with him sprawled on the ground. _But not today,_ he thought, nerving himself up. _Not today!_

With a fierce whoop, Joseph lunged forward, changing his direction at the last second and aiming a vicious blow at Breagan's side. With a sharp _clack_, the bokkens met, Breagan blocking the stroke at the last second. Joseph moved fast, changing direction often, striking hard and swift, trying to keep the advantage given him by that first blow, trying to break through his father's defense.

Breagan met him, blow for blow, bokkens cracking together so fast they sounded like castanets. Each motion was smooth, each block effortless. But he was—

Joseph breathed hard, forcing himself to stay to his strategy and not branch out. Breagan was giving ground! He had seen his father cross blades with dozens, if not hundreds of people in his eighteen years, both friendly sparring with other Guardians and deadly battle with enemy Fae. Never before had he given ground.

He realized he was falling into a pattern and started improvising, still striking hard and fast, keeping Breagan off-balance. _Or,_ he thought with the one portion of his mind not entirely occupied with fighting, _as off-balance as I can keep him_...

Joseph briefly disengaged, lashing out with a low kick to keep his father from pressing his advantage. He switched the bokken to his left hand and lunged again, whipping a flurry of fast strikes, meant to bewilder and push through. Only...

He realized, with a glimmer of alarm that slowly grew into horror, that Breagan was smiling. Without disengaging, without even missing a block, he switched his own bokken to his left hand.

"You didn't know, did you?"

Joseph felt a cold sweat break on his face as Breagan stole the offensive and started shoving him back.

Out in the living room, Ange Thestanwen, Breagan's wife, handler, and boss, sat in her favorite chair, reading a new book. She placidly ignored the bouncy—but innocent—pop music drifting down from her daughters' room, accompanied by rhythmic thudding that suggested they were dancing. She also ignored the whirring blender drifting up from the kitchenette in the basement apartment, where her twin sister Paige lived, and the increasingly frantic clacking coming from the gym room/sparring arena—though she was tuned for a change in either gym room or basement. She was hardly unaware of how the sparring sessions between her husband and son usually ended, and Paige's smoothies sometimes had some...exotic ingredients.

The sound that did finally move her was the doorbell. She stood, brushed down her good blouse and skirt, and went to the door.

The kindly-looking Japanese gentleman standing on her porch bowed politely as she opened the door. "Good morning, Mrs. Ange."

Ange bowed back, clapping a hand to her loose drapeneck collar as she did. "Good morning, Mr. Morisaki. Come in; I've been expecting you, and I have tea on."

"Thank you." He entered, putting his staff away with the seven others propped haphazardly against the wall. "Tea will be welcome; it was a long flight."

Ange chuckled, walking into the kitchen. "You're lucky we're living on the West Coast at the moment, instead of in Texas. That would have been an even longer flight."

Morisaki looked around the living room. "Where are your husband and son?"

Ange came out with the tea service. "They're in the gym. They'll be out in a minute; I just heard them speed up, which means Joseph's about to get his little butt kicked again."

Right at that moment, the cracking skipped a beat and changed to a painfully meaty _th__wack_, followed by a series of crashes, and shortly after by a strident yell of "Ice!" Ange set the tea service down on the coffee table and nodded to Morisaki.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment? They'll be out shortly." She went back into the kitchen and came out again with a large ice pack, disappearing into the gym.

Joseph lay on the ground, slumped in the wreckage of the bo staff and bokken stands, breathing slowly. Breagan knelt over him, starting to lift him up. Ange gazed down at them, bemused.

"What happened this time?"

Breagan looked up at her, grinning so broadly her cheeks started to hurt just looking at it. "He had me on the defensive for nearly _three minutes_, Ange! He's getting better!"

"And still, he ended up in the display stands." She knelt beside them. "Where does he need the ice?"

"His head. He deflected that last stroke straight into his face." Breagan finally extricated Joseph and turned him over, revealing a long, swelling welt that stretched across his forehead and down across one eye. "He's out."

Ange placed the ice pack and her right hand on her son's head, closing her eyes as her Healer's power flowed down into him. "Go freshen up—and do it quickly. Morisaki Manitatsukarera is here."

Bregan grimaced, looking down at his sweat-drenched shirt. "Couldn't he have waited to get here for thirty minutes? All right, I'll hurry." He jumped up and started to leave, then turned back. "I was on the defensive, Ange! No one's put me on the defensive since Gabriel took me on as his squire!"

Laughing, she looked up and flapped a hand at him. "It's a highly momentous thing, I know! Go get changed—and then brag to our guest!"

Joseph groaned and stirred, then sat up, holding the ice pack to his sore face. "Ow. Damn it."

She popped him lightly on the mouth. "No swearing. What happened?"

"I almost had him. He was giving ground. I almost...how was I to know he's better with his left hand than with his right?"

Ange's eyebrows shot up. "You mean you _didn't know_?"

He looked up blankly. "What?"

She shook her head and laughed. "Your father's prouder of that little Inigo Montoya routine than just about any other skill he has. I've seen him fight off four toughs with his left hand—and his right literally behind his back. Yeah; making him fight left-handed is probably one of the biggest mistakes anyone can make."

"Oh, _now _you tell me." Joseph staggered blearily to his feet. "Ow. This really hurts."

"Break through your defense, did he?"

"Not really; I blocked wrong and threw his stroke right into me."

"I've seen someone else do that." Ange looked into the distance. "And it wasn't with a wooden sword, either. Fortunately, he also wasn't friendly. I don't think anyone was really upset when he sliced his face open and gave your dad the opportunity he needed to finally skewer that little ba—" She looked at Joseph and changed her phrasing. "Creepola." She patted his shoulder. "Go change your shirt and freshen up a little; our guest is here."

"Okay." Joseph staggered away, still punch-drunk enough to bounce off the walls as he went.

Ange returned to the living room to find that Breagan had changed his clothes in what had to have been record time. Privately, she could not recall it taking him less that ten minutes to just be _persuaded _to change out of his nasty workout clothes before he went into polite company again—and several times, he had obliged her to strip him down, sponge the worst of the grime away, then dress him herself. Complaining loudly the whole time. _Honestly, he's usually worse than a four-year-old. __Paternal pride is a marvelous thing. _

And it was paternal pride that had motivated him, to judge by how he was regaling the increasingly glassy-eyed Morisaki with details of his and Joseph's sparring match. _I'd better get in and rescue him there_.

"Breagan," she scolded playfully as she slipped down beside him on the couch, "remember what I told you about holding guests hostage like that?"

Breagan ducked his head and laughed sheepishly. "Sorry, I guess I did...get carried away there. I'm just...It hasn't happened for twenty years!"

"You are clearly training him well," Morisaki said politely, picking up his teacup. "It will help him in the place I hope to send him."

"You mentioned this when you called me." Ange folded her hands on her knee. "Would you explain where you want him to go and why?"

"The place is called Yokai Academy." Morisaki set his cup down. "It is a school for monsters, Japanese Fae, creatures from our Spirit World and from legend. It teaches these creatures to live in human society, to hide their true nature. It seems benign...but not all of these creatures are under the Covenant—and very few are friendly. They are infiltrating human society, and my branch of the family is terrified, lest they seek to harm men—for we cannot stop them without violating our sacred oaths."

Ange nodded. "I'd heard rumors from some of Titania's messengers that the winds were changing in Japan; but they never explained what they meant."

Breagan grunted, folding his arms. "Not that I let them stick _around _long enough to explain. I've got two sixteen-year-old daughters, and don't need those flighty little playboys giving them ideas."

Morisaki chuckled. "I do not think any father would feel differently. Yes, the winds are changing in Japan—and possibly not for the better. What we need...what we need are two of They Who Stand Between, children—teenagers—to infiltrate Yokai Academy, to learn what these races hope to gain, and perhaps to start drawing them under the Covenant. It is my hope that your son, Joseph, be one of these children."

Ange and Breagan exchanged glances. "A school?" Breagan asked, shifting nervously. "Is it a...coed school?"

"Coed?" Morisaki frowned, puzzled.

"Boys and girls?"

"Oh. Yes, it is."

The nervousness on Breagan's face turned into alarm. "And you want...Joseph to go to it?"

"Is that bad?"

Ange explained. "Joseph has never been to a public school, and neither have his sisters—or to a private school, for that matter. Since they're half-Elven, they have a...we call it a _dazzle_, a natural, very powerful attraction for the opposite sex. Some Elves can control it to a certain extent, but it's always there, even if they're wearing a strong glamour. It can make it impossible for them to go into any sort of situation where there are certain to be a number of people around." She paused. "The girls can't even go to the mall if their father isn't there to stand over them like a dragon guarding its horde."

Morisaki frowned. "I have heard that the American branch of the family has great skill with charms and wards. Is there not something you could make to counter this?"

Ange frowned. "There _is_ such a thing as an anti-dazzle charm, but it's usually meant to protect people from the effects of the dazzle—and they're not easy to make. It would be impossible to provide an entire school with them."

"No, no." Morisaki shook his head and leaned forward a little. "Could this...anti-dazzle charm not be used to hold the dazzle _in_?"

Breagan and Ange exchanged startled looks. "I...I don't know," Ange finally said. "I don't think it's ever been tried before."

"What's never been tried before?"

All eyes turned to the door, where Joseph had appeared. He still sported an impressive black eye and an oval goose egg on his forehead, but his clothes were clean and his hair neatly combed back. He also stood straight, instead of leaning against the wall for balance.

Breagan grinned at him and beckoned him over. "Come over here, kid. Morisaki, this is Joseph."

Joseph bowed slightly as he faced the older man. "Pleased to meet you, sir. Sorry about the... war wound."

Morisaki smiled as he returned the bow. "Your father has told me all about your fight. Come; our discussion concerns you."

Still rubbing his sore head, Joseph eyed the older man warily as he sat down on threadbare corduroy armchair. "Concerns me how? And what's never been tried before?"

"No one's ever tried using an anti-dazzle charm to hold dazzle _in _before," Ange explained. "In fact...I don't know whether or not it would work. But there seems to be a method to madness: we're in the same town as our foremost wardcaster, Delilah Oakheart-Thestanwen. We should be able to get hold of her and ask today."

An amused voice sounded from the opposite door, like an independent echo. "A ward to hold dazzle in? Are you guys trying to put an anti-dazzle charm on an Elf or something?"

Morisaki jumped and looked around, startled. He blinked when he saw a slightly tattier version of Ange leaning against the door frame. She grinned at him.

"Hi. I'm Paige, the overlooked twin sister in the family."

"You are _not _overlooked." Ange didn't even turn around.

"Not by _you—_by everyone else. Somehow, the one who married the Sceath gets all the attention."

"Actually, it's the Sceath who gets all the attention. I am only noticed as the one who manages his appointments—and chases the sightseers off when he's been laid up." Ange leaned back. "Yes, we're talking about putting an anti-dazzle charm on an Elf." She nodded to Joseph. "The Manitatsukarera need a Thestanwen to infiltrate some supernatural school or other, and they figured you would be a good choice."

Joseph froze, his eyes widening into a passable imitation of a deer on the highway. "What?"

"The school is called Yokai Academy," Morisaki said calmly, not seeming to notice how panicked the half-Elf was. "You will be in among creatures of myth, legend, and even dark tales. Some of your classmates will be monsters; others are simply Fae. The Headmaster of the school is too aware of the Manitatsukarera for us to infiltrate it; it must be someone he knows nothing of. We chose you—and the other—on your fathers' reputation, and at least in your case, it seems to be wise." He smiled. "One boasted of so highly by the best swordsman in two worlds will have little trouble, no? And it is easily argued that Sceath are monsters rather than Fae."

Both Joseph and Breagan grunted irritably. "Don't remind me." Joseph shifted. "So, who is this other? And I'm seriously going to go a _school_? Like, with girls around?"

Morisaki blinked. "Are you afraid of girls?"

Joseph scowled over at Paige, who grinned at him impishly. "If you lived with my aunt and my sisters, you'd be afraid of the whole female half, too. And I've had some...scary experiences with girls. Came home after midnight in what was left of my boxers one time, too."

The staid gentleman looked flapped for the first time since the visit started. "And, er—how did this come about?"

Joseph's head sank a little lower, and his chocolate-colored ears turned a bright fuchsia. "Outdoor concert. I tried to keep away from the crowded places, but the...wind shifted or something. And I think there were drugs or something available? There was a weird atmosphere there...anyway, I got mobbed by a crowd of almost thirty-five assorted females—and a couple of guys, too—and I managed to get up a tree just after they finished ripping my clothes to shreds. I stayed up there until they fell asleep." He glanced guiltily at his parents. "Okay, and I helped them fall asleep, which is why some of them didn't wake up until the next afternoon; but once they fell asleep, I got out of the tree and got my naked little butt home. Never did _anything _like that again."

"We knew about that." Ange shook her head. "He almost became a misanthrope hermit at age thirteen. That's one of the reasons we moved down to Texas. Less easy for that to happen in a small town, and the girls there are usually more likely to giggle and crush on someone they like than to form a mob. But he's avoided crowds since then with a screaming passion."

Joseph folded his arms, grumbling. "Wouldn't _you_?"

Morisaki tipped his head to the side, then nodded. "I do understand. We are not so...familiar with the Elfkind and their ways in Japan. I do not think I would have understood the full effect of your dazzle had it not been explained to me."

"At least until you received a frantic call from the top of a pine tree," Paige teased. She straightened. "Ange, you're about to get a few more guests. I saw them through the window. I'm going to go call Delilah and ask if she could possibly make a couple of anti-dazzle charms meant for Elves while you and the others hash details of this school out."

Ange looked up, face blank. "Other guests?"

Morisaki also looked startled. "I suppose I did not explain to them I wished to meet you together, not at the house. Yes; this would be the 'other' I mentioned to Joseph."

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Breagan, after exchanging nods with Ange, stood up to answer the bell. There was silence for a few moments, then a cry of surprise and delight came from the foyer.

"Dranwyn! Niahm! And—my gosh, is that Clarice? Come in! I just wish I'd been told you were coming. Come in!"

Ange leaned back, her face lighting up with understanding. "A school for monsters. Of course, I should have guessed this 'other' would be Clarice."

Breagan came in, escorting a small family: a tall, broad-shouldered man with a ripple of dark-blue hair, a slender woman leaning heavily on her staff, and a very pretty teenaged girl with a shy smile and a wave of hair the same blue-black as her father's. She looked around at the others and waved, the movement revealing an elaborate, rune-engraved armband on her right wrist.

Joseph sat up a little straighter, his eyes widening. He hadn't seen his cousin Clarice for nearly five years—and she had been a gawky little tomboy then, all arms and legs, freckled face, determined to beat the boys at everything. She had blossomed in those five years.

Her parents, Dranwyn and Niahm, relaxed as they entered the room, Dranwyn joking with Breagan about something that had happened on a mission they'd both been on a few months back, and Niahm clearly intent on a soft chair. Ange noticed and jumped up.

"Here, take mine. Long drive?"

"Long enough." Niahm sank into the chair with a groan of relief. "My back's acting up again."

"You want...?" Ange lifted her right hand.

Niahm nodded gratefully. "If you would; my gift doesn't always do the trick these days." She leaned forward, allowing Ange to place her Healer's hand on the old stab wound that had come close to crippling her eighteen years ago. Dranwyn looked up and frowned.

"You all right, sweetheart?"

Niahm nodded. "It was just a long drive, and the car cushions aren't as soft as they might be. Oh!" Her face dissolved into ecstasy as Ange's power went to work on her. "Oh, yes. I should be good for a while now, thank you."

Dranwyn and Breagan both sat down again, followed by Clarice. Joseph stared in awe. _Wow. I knew Dad and Dranwyn got to be friends, but...wow. It's still kind of...creepy and cool at the same time to have the guy who can turn into a fifteen-foot-tall demon in our living room_. He glanced over at Clarice, who was fiddling with her armband. _And...didn't they say Clarice inherited her dad's powers?_His eyes widened. _Monsters. Duh! They want me to go to a school for monsters—with Clarice. __That might not be...so bad, actually.._. He absently fiddled with the earring that held his glamour, and wondered what Clarice looked like if her glamour was removed.

Dranwyn looked around and took a deep breath. "All right; what exactly what this is about?"

Morisaki took a deep breath. "To make a long story short, a number of unfriendly supernatural races are filtering into human society, and they are not always under the Covenant. They are coming from a school called Yokai Academy, which teaches them to blend in among humans. But, since they have nothing to keep them under control, this is a setting for disaster. The school's headmaster is too familiar with Manitatsukarera for us to infiltrate it; therefore, it was decided that we should ask two Thestanwens to enroll, to see what, exactly, is the intent of the school, and to draw more races under the Covenant." He nodded to Clarice. "You and your cousin Joseph were considered strong enough—and, well, monstrous enough—to do this."

Clarice nodded slowly, chewing a full, rosy-pink lip. "Um...how big is this school?"

"We are not sure. But it is the only one of its kind, so...it is considerable."

She exchanged looks with her parents. "Okay. How aware are you of my condition?"

Joseph's ears pricked up. He hadn't known Clarice had a condition.

Neither, apparently, had Morisaki—or Ange and Breagan, for that matter. "What condition?"

Clarice held up her armband. "I don't have the same control over my Demon-Seeming side that my dad does. He can release it at will. If I don't wear this armband, any strong emotion will kick mine off. We had to have it made when I hit puberty, because any mood swing meant they had to deal with a huge, strong, irritable demoness who got taller by a foot every year. When we last checked, my other side is ten feet tall—and I might still be growing. I guess what I'm saying is...if I go to this school, will they have to deal with essentially the Incredible Winged She-Hulk, or..."

"You will be allowed to keep the armband." Morisaki sighed. "Though I do not suppose it would truly matter all that much, because you will be going to a school for _monsters_. You will deal with oni, ogres, vampires, werewolves, Arachne, lizard-men, orcs, _yuki-onna—_the list is long. A Sceath and a Demon-Seeming—even a Demon-Seeming who occasionally loses control of her power—will not stand out all that much."

_But why should someone as sweet and pretty as Clarice have to deal with—_Joseph smacked his forehead, suddenly realizing what was going on. "Mom, Aunt Paige said she was going to ask about _two_ anti-dazzle charms, didn't she?"

Clarice blushed bright red. "Sorry! And, um...yours is affecting me, too. I've been concentrating on my armband to keep from focusing on it, because yours is strong. _Really _strong. Even Titania's messengers—and they practically exude dazzle—didn't give me this much trouble."

Breagan sighed. "I should have thought of that. Sceath have the most all-encompassing dazzle of all Elves." He grinned sardonically. "It's a survival trick; hard to kill someone when what you really want to do is drag them into a secluded area and tear their clothes off—and so do they."

Ange blushed. "As I recall, that was...mentioned in the Book of Beings. Which is probably why my Uncle Georgio censored it so hard when we were down there four years before I met you; there were three pages in the 'S' section that were entirely blank."

Joseph glanced up at her. "So...did you not know what Dad was?"

Ange laughed ruefully, shaking her head. "Not a clue. Mom and Dad just about hit the roof and kept going when I brought him home. Though the worst one was that confounded Bullfrog; I called Mom to let her know I was bringing a patient home for Aunt Harmony, and he'd just called _them _to tell them there was a Sceath in the area. He was with them waiting for me to get back, and I think Mom was about ready to murder him by the time we finally arrived."

Paige stuck her head in, lifting up the phone. "Got her, guys."

Joseph turned, not sure what he hoped for. "What did she say?"

"Well, first she asked if I was serious, then she got thoughtful. Said it would be an interesting experiment, but she'd have to customize the charms for their specific owners." She grinned. "We have an appointment in her shop tomorrow at eleven."

Breagan stood, nodding. "All right, then. We'll go tomorrow. As far as I'm concerned, if she can do this, I have no problems with Joseph going."

"What?" It was meant to be a thunderous cry of protest, but came out more like a squeak. Breagan looked back at him.

"Kid, if you can make me give ground, you're almost ready to be appointed Guardian, at least in terms of weapons skill. Sending you to a school—especially if you're equipped with an anti-dazzle charm—will be easier on you than either apprenticing you to a Guardian or kicking you out on missions, and it will be good practice for missions." He shrugged. "Plus, there's no guarantee you'll be able to go, because there's no promise that Delilah will be able to make the charms."

* * *

_That__ was a forlorn hope_. Joseph sat by himself in his room, surrounded by piles of folded laundry and several trunks gaping wide open, looking down and twisting the new glass charm around his wrist. Delilah Oakheart-Thestanwen had once more lived up to her title of foremost wardcaster: with the addition of two new coils in the pattern and five drops of both his and Clarice's blood, the charms had been made in less than three days. He also wore a new charm under his shirt, commissioned especially for him.

"Here," Breagan had said, tying it around his neck. "Your charm means the girls won't be overly attracted to you, but unfortunately, it doesn't guard you against _their _charms—either dazzle or just natural. This is a...well, it doesn't have a name, since yours is the first one she's ever made...but it will give you the mental equivalent of a cold shower if you need it."

He still wasn't sure if he was insulted or grateful.

His sisters, Rachel and Melody, had taken over his packing, gathering up all the clothes he owned—despite numerous assurances that the school would provide him with uniforms—his books, his games and puzzles, even the bokkens and bo staffs he favored for fighting. He had protested their stripping of his room several times, and got their patented How-stupid-can-you-be look every time.

"Joe, you're going to _Japan_. For _four months_! You need all the help you can get to stay sane!" And they'd grabbed both his MP3s, (donating, he noticed, one of their own good headphones to the cause), his CD player, and his entire CD collection, and carried it away to be packed. His room was starting to look very bare.

Both Joseph and Breagan had put their feet down when they tried to strip his wall of his posters, so that his dorm room could look homey. Joseph had refused to allow the wallpaper issues the posters concealed to come to light (he especially did not want Ange to know about the hole he'd accidentally knocked in the drywall while practicing with a bo staff), and Breagan pointed out that Joseph would probably not have his own room, and would therefore not be able to use the posters. Ange claimed Breagan just wanted a place to sit and be morose when he didn't have a live-in sparring partner who was starting to match him in skill. Breagan then returned with so what if he did, she'd miss him too. She said not if she was too busy with another one.

There was more to their quasi-argument, but Joseph and the girls all saw where it was heading and fled before their parents hauled each other into their own room. He would not be surprised at all to find he would have a new brother or sister by the time he got back.

Joseph picked up his yew staff, running his hands across the numerous wards. _Combat_. That was the meaning of yew wood: the one who owned the staff would be particularly skilled in combat. His sisters had a rowan and elder staff between them; they learned some forms of battle from their father, but neither one had a real talent or any enthusiasm for it. Rachel, the rowan, would probably enter the service of the Church someday, while Melody was already contacting Great-Aunt Harmony, the family healer, to learn herb-lore. They were both half-Sceath themselves, but for some reason, nobody remembered that, even if they dropped their glamours. With Joseph, people remembered.

_I wonder what Clarice's staff is made of_. Every child who Stood Between received their staff on their twelfth birthday, though Joseph was still unsure of how they knew what wood to make it out of. Ange had known hers would be an interesting path when she received a staff of ash wood—rare for a girl, and suggesting a role of leadership and battle. _Turned out to be accurate, though_. They didn't talk about it often, but Joseph had learned some time back that his mother had destroyed the last of the old Greek pantheon: the Witch-Goddess, Hecate, who'd got her claws into the Sceath after being chased out of Greece over two thousand years ago. _I don't know how many people know that. I've got two serious powerhouses for parents._

He thought about going down and setting up a sparring session, then sighed and discarded the idea. His last bruise had only just gone down, and Ange had pointed out grimly that his school ID didn't need to show his face half-swollen and covered with lumps.

He set his staff aside and fingered the other thing he would have to wear, aside from his 'cold-water' charm: a pendant made of unpolished amethyst. It had been agreed by all that there was no way he or Clarice would be able to learn Japanese before they transferred, so they had come up with the next best thing. Amethysts, if 'tuned' with certain rituals and powers, were a universal translation agent, allowing the one who wore them to understand and be understood in all languages.

_Except Girl_. Joseph could hear his sisters arguing in the next room. He assumed they were speaking English, but couldn't make head or tail of what they were talking about, or why it was worth an argument. _I hope it won't be this bad with Clarice. _

His head came up as the doorbell rang downstairs. _Speaking of Clarice_... He hopped up and trotted downstairs.

Sure enough, Clarice and Niahm stood together in the doorway. Niahm grinned at him. "Hey, traveler. Your parents home?"

"Yeah." Joseph glanced over his shoulder. "I'm not exactly sure if they're...available yet, since they're, um..."

Niahm laughed. "Not surprising; Dranwyn tends to...let's say get his days and nights mixed up, too. Go bang on the door and yell that they have guests; we'll wait until they're presentable again."

Clarice shook her head and blushed scarlet. "They _do_, you know," she muttered to Joseph. "Honestly, I sometimes think I'm way too young to have parents."

Joseph ran up the stairs and stuck his head around the hall corner. Fortunately, the banging and thumping coming from his parent's room wasn't as loud as it might have been. "Mom! Dad!" he yelled. "Clarice and her mom are here!"

Instant silence. He thought he heard someone grumbling, then Ange answered. "We'll be down in about ten minutes!"

He decided not to wonder why, and returned to the living room.

When he arrived, Niahm was spreading a variety of papers across the coffee table, helped by Clarice. She glanced up at him and smiled shyly before quickly lowering her head again—not, however, before he noticed how blue her eyes were.

"Hey, Joseph." She shuffled two pages together. "We've got all the goods from the school and the airport."

"Wow. Already?" He sat down across from them.

"Yep." Niahm handed him a brochure. "Tap your amethyst on that and look it over. Apparently, one of the Manitatsukarera has some connections to the school; she got in on the act and had your applications ready-approved the same day Delilah said she could make the anti-dazzle charms for you."

"Really?" Joseph acted on her advice and was delighted to find that the kanji covering the paper suddenly made sense. "How did she do that?"

"I have no idea, and I'm not sure I want to know." Niahm held up two envelopes. "Your plane tickets are in this. Keep this safe, those things are _pricey_."

Joseph grinned mischievously as he accepted the envelope. "Keep it secret. Keep it safe."

Niahm and Clarice laughed. "Not necessarily secret," Niahm said. "But definitely safe. You don't have the money to replace tickets on a small airline to Japan."

"A small airline?" He looked up, surprised.

"Almost private. It's the same one Morisaki used to come down here, and go back."

"Oh, that's right. He did go back to Japan, didn't he?"

"Same day you got your charms." Niahm nodded toward the glass twist. "But he was the one who gathered all this stuff together and sent it to us. Are your parents coming down?"

"Mom said something about coming in ten minutes." Joseph coughed, his cheeks getting hot. "I, uh...didn't ask why."

"Hopefully they're just freshening up and finding their clothes again." Niahm chuckled. "I've found shed garments in odd places after a, ah..." she grinned at Clarice, who dropped her flaming face into her hands, "_bonding _session."

Joseph pretended more interest in the brochure than he actually had. Then he noticed something else that had slipped in. He tapped it with his amethyst and frowned. "Uh...this is a receipt for school uniforms?"

"Oh, yes. They're not going to be sent here; they'd just go back to Japan, and the two-way shipping would have _killed _us." Niahm picked up the receipt. "Someone named Furumiya is keeping them for you—and he'll be the one to brief you on what you're getting into when you arrive in Japan."

"How will we know Furumiya?" Clarice looked up, anxious for the first time. "Will he be meeting us at the airport?"

"According to what I was told, yes." Niahm shuffled through the papers and produced a photograph of a slender, slant-eyed man with graceful features and long, bluish-black hair. "This is a recent picture, so you'll know who to look for, and he'll have a sign to alert you."

Joseph nodded slowly. "Okay." He frowned at the picture. "I don't recognize...what is Furumiya, exactly? What does he spring from?"

"I don't know his exact heritage," Niahm answered. "But he's like you and Clarice: a direct half. If he came from the British Isles, I might suspect a Sidhe or Tuatha de Dannan parentage; since he's Japanese, I have no idea what might give him those features."

"You might ask him," a deeper voice suggested from the doorway. All eyes turned to see Breagan, dressed and groomed, striding downstairs. Joseph gaped. It had been a long time since he'd seen his father without his glamour, and he had forgotten the Dark Elven beauty and terror. Just for starters, the glamour removed three inches of height, and forty pounds of defined muscle. Slanted, cat-like emerald eyes gleamed, and his face, while it always looked chiseled, was sharper and more delicate. But the biggest shock was his skin and hair. Instead of rich chocolate, his skin was jet-black, while his normally close-cropped hair cascaded in an opalescent black stream down his shoulders to the middle of his chest.

Without realizing he was doing it, Joseph reached up and fingered his earring as it suddenly occurred to him that he had not looked at his true self in nearly three years. _Do I—is that what _I _might look like, without the glamour? _

Nor was he the only one shocked. Clarice jerked up, letting out a squeak of astonishment and fright, while Niahm's eyes widened.

"Ah—that's a look I haven't seen in a while."

Breagan grinned sheepishly. "Ange's trying to find the earring that binds my glamour. I'm staying in the house until it turns up."

"I don't blame you." Niahm leaned back, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Nor do I exactly blame _her—_though if that's common, I'd think you'd be able to keep better track of what happens to that earring."

"Normally we do." Joseph envied his father's ability to remain calm while talking about... marital relations. "We just got a little distracted this time. What's all this?" He sat down and picked up one of the papers, frowning at the kanji.

"Papers from and on Yokai Academy." Niahm pulled a beautifully cut amethyst the size of a quail's egg out of her blouse and tapped the paper with it. "The applications are already approved, though Mrs. Akiko Manitatsukarera asked if we would fill them out anyway; and there are a few rule sheets and a list of the clubs the kids might join."

"Where's the applications?" Joseph picked a pen out of the lumpy clay pot that lived on the coffee table. "I'll fill out mine while we're waiting for Mom."

Niahm pulled out two sheets that had been stapled together and handed them to him. "Here's yours. Use the amethyst on the pen as well; if you do that, you'll be able to write in kanji."

Joseph scanned the page, writing in the relevant spaces, and trying to ignore how weird it was to write normally and have it come out in chicken-scratch pictures. About halfway through, he looked up to see Breagan watching him thoughtfully. "Uh...what is it?"

"Clarice just mentioned she had to tell them about her armband." Breagan stood. "On the 'needed equipment' line. Put _Tellemaera _down on yours."

"_Tellemaera_?" Joseph frowned, straightening. "What's _that_?"

"It's your...inheritance, legacy, heritage; I don't know quite which word is right." Ange appeared, a small golden loop in her hand. "Here you are, sweetheart, and don't ask me how it got in there, but this was in my top drawer. Go bring it out for him."

His face solemn, Breagan took his earring, slipped it into his pocket, and left the room. When he returned a few minutes later, Joseph involuntarily rose to his feet, eyes fixed on the sheathed sword in his hands.

"Oh, wow," he breathed, unable to speak above a whisper. The blade alone was four feet long. Gold and silver wire crisscrossed the foot-long hilt, ending in a golden pommel whose swirled design looked like a wave eternally on the verge of breaking. The scabbard was encased in black enamel, covered with runes and Celtic knotwork inlaid in jeweled hues. His fingers itched to hold it.

"This," said Breagan, solemn as if he were in church, "is _Tellemaera_. It was forged specifically for you, by the same Elvish smith who forged my sword _Dharmaya_, and is made of the same blood-infused Elf-steel. I do not know its power: it was never meant for me." He extended his hands, holding the sword out to Joseph, who started to have trouble breathing. "We planned to present it to you on your twentieth birthday; but I think it would be best if you received it now."

"Joseph." Ange's voice, too, was reverent and solemn. "Take off your glamour. This should be presented in truth, and glamour is a sort of lie."

Moving like a sleepwalker, Joseph reached up and pulled his earring out. He didn't feel any different, but Niahm straightened, and Clarice's eyes widened. She covered her mouth, letting out a gasp of appreciation.

"Oh, wow."

Ange took _Tellemaera, _attaching a leather baldric to the loops fastened into the enamel. She stepped forward, her gown—he suddenly realized she was wearing a floor-length, sapphire-blue gown—swishing as she did. She slid the sword up behind him so that it rested on his back, then looped the baldric around his shoulders and fastened it over his chest. The weight of the sword settled, feeling—_right_. Joseph breathed deeply, straightening his shoulders. It was as if he had been waiting for this all his life, despite not having known about _Tellemaera _until this moment.

Ange finished and stepped back. "Draw it," she said quietly.

Joseph reached up, curling his slender, coal-black fingers around the hilt. Power rushed through his arm, and he whipped the sword out in one singing motion. Light glinted in silver and blue sparks off the curved, single-edged blade, glittering along the engraved pattern of Celtic knots and star-shaped flowers. The edge of the blade gleamed wickedly. He held out his arm, feeling the sword's pinpoint balance, and shuddered at how easily it would arch through the air. He had handled real weapons before; Breagan insisted that he learn to wield and care for a sword. But never before had he held anything that was so clearly a destined weapon.

_I Stand Between_, he thought, the realization crackling into his mind with the force of a lightning bolt. _And _this _is what I will use to defend __myself, my family, and the innocents of the world__. _He sheathed _Tellemaera_, eyes shining.

Breagan nodded. "Keep it on you at all times," he said. "Whatever your destiny will be, you _will _need that blade—especially at that school."

Joseph lowered his hand, fighting back the urge to reach back again and just touch the hilt. "How will I get it into the school? For that matter, how will I get it through the airport?"

Ange grinned. "That is easy. Look at the pommel."

Joseph twisted his head around, catching a glimpse of the golden coil. Then he blinked, suddenly seeing the shape of a ward worked into the metal. "What kind of ward is that? I don't recognize it."

"That is the Unnoticable ward." Breagan shifted his weight, putting his hand to his hip. "It's one of the invisibility wards, and it's the handiest of its kind. With that, the sword may not be invisible...but _nothing _will notice it. Not security guards, not cameras—not even the metal detectors. If you touch the hilt, which you will probably get into the habit of doing, people will think you're just rubbing your neck."

"That sounds cool." Joseph frowned. "But are you sure?"

A slow smile spread over Breagan's face, and he tapped his fingers. Joseph's mouth dropped open as his father's sword _Dharmaya_ instantly materialized—and not just the sword, either, but the gilded-leather swordbelt as well. "Yes," Breagan said impishly. "I am quite sure." He glanced over at Clarice. "Ah; it looks as if we should probably replace our glamours; your cousin is on the verge of hyperventilating."

Joseph reached up and fumbled for a moment before he found the hole and slide the earring back in. Breagan did the same, and immediately, two relatively ordinary black men stood in the room. Clarice closed her eyes, holding her breath for a moment before she started breathing again. When she opened her eyes, she immediately looked at Joseph.

"Just to let you know: there was _no _dazzle involved in that. Your Sceath side is scary—but it's also gorgeous. I've never seen a teenager that well-muscled before, even in the movies."

Ange and Breagan exchanged glances, then laughed. Breagan ruffled Joseph's hair. "A word of advice: avoid tight shirts. Nothing will come back to bite you faster—except maybe tight pants, and I never wore those anyway, because they're hard to move in."

"And thank God for that!" Ange shook her head. "I had a hard enough time in San Francisco without them!"

Joseph nodded slowly. "I will remember that. No tight shirts, no tight pants." He glanced over at Clarice. "And keep my glamour on."

Breagan lifted a hand. "Actually, there are times to remove it. And chief among those times is when you must fight as a Thestanwen: when you must draw and use _Tellemaera_. It's only fair to your opponents to let them know exactly what they are facing." His face grew still, and he took a deep breath. "And remember, Joseph: when you draw _Tell__e__maera_, you have indicated a will to fight to the death. You don't have to go that far—but you have, by the act of unsheathing the blade, demonstrated a willingness to kill."

Joseph stiffened, swallowing hard. "I've never killed before."

"I know. I've sheltered you as much as possible from that." Breagan grimaced. "I don't like the idea of you having to kill someone before you've reached twenty. But it may have to happen. Be _very _sure you're willing to go all the way before you resort to your sword."

Joseph nodded, reaching back to touch _Tellemaera's _hilt, and wondering how long it would be before he was forced to draw it again.

* * *

_Airports are hell! _Joseph had thought—and on occasion, said—numerous variations of this phrase over the years. For a terminal agoraphobe, it was hard to come up with anything worse. And having Clarice with him the whole way wasn't making things any easier, especially in the crowded Sea-Tac security line. _Anti-dazzle charm or no, the way we keep bumping into each other is going to start making things really awkward_.

Clarice squeaked as someone very large banged past them, half-knocking her over and shoving her straight into Joseph again. He couldn't juggle the carry-ons fast enough to actually catch her, and settled for just turning his body so that she'd have something to—to run into face-first, as it seemed, which made him suddenly very aware of a rather soft...curve pressing into his torso and—

And the cold-water charm worked just fine. He felt neither wet nor cold, but he had just received the exact shock of someone jumping stark naked into...he decided it was the Arctic Ocean. He was surprised he hadn't squawked. And it definitely killed the hormones that had jumped up when Clarice fell on him.

"Sorry," she muttered as she straightened, dusting her straight dress off. "This place is so crowded!"

"I know." The moment the hormones disappeared, his raging hate of crowded places had surged back in to fill the vacuum. "I'm trying not to run off screaming."

"Wouldn't get far here." She looked around, grimacing. "Thank God, we're nearly to the security checkpoint."

Joseph grunted, digging frantically in his pocked. "I.D., I.D.—where's my I.D?"

Clarice handed it to him. "You gave it to me to hold, remember? And you might want to give me back my purse."

"Oh. Yeah." As he handed the small bag back to her, he noticed for the first time that it was pink, glittery, and decorated with a large Hello Kitty decal. "You gave me a _Hello Kitty _bag?"

"I assumed you would have made a fuss when I handed it to you if it was that big an issue." She gave the faded, peeling stickers all over his backpack a pointed glance. "Someone willing to carry a backpack they decorated when they were—what, in first grade? Doesn't really have room to talk in my opinion."

He looked down at the stickers, which ranged from Pokemon to superheroes to...okay, the old Pajama Sam stickers that had come in the computer box were probably a little silly. "They're not pink and glittery," he defended. "And I didn't _notice _what your purse looked like when you handed it to me."

"You really are out of it." Clarice slung the purse strap over her shoulder.

"I don't like crowds." Joseph bit back a snarl as someone banged into him from behind and told him, with a number of words and no imagination, to hurry up. "Back off and wait your turn!"

The other guy demonstrated his lack of imagination again, and Joseph turned away with a scowl of disgust. "I _really _don't like crowds."

"I don't blame you." Clarice grimaced. "Let's get this over with." She kicked out of her sandals and put them, her backpack, and her purse on the conveyer. "I just hope the...glitter doesn't interfere with the scanner any."

It wasn't the glitter she was worried about. And Joseph, as he dropped his backpack on the conveyor and pulled his loafers off, had the same worry. Both her purse and his backpack had been equipped with a void—making them almost ten times larger on the inside than they were on the outside. But neither one of them was sure if the cloth disguises that hid the voids—and the several pounds of items _in _the voids that, while mostly not contraband (though the three bottles of water might raise eyebrows), were generally way too large to fit in a backpack and a toy-sized purse—would be sufficient.

Fortunately, the disguises worked, as did the Unnoticable wards on Clarice's staff and _Tellemaera_. Nobody so much as raised an eyebrow, and there certainly wasn't the fuss one might expect for two people carrying a long, curved sword and a four-foot-long staff through the airport.

Once they escaped the crush at the security checkpoint, Joseph and Clarice found a quiet corner, and looked at their tickets to find the gate. Then they looked up at the signs overhead to find out where, exactly the gate was located. Then, simultaneously, they groaned.

"It's a good thing we're in shape," Joseph sighed, shifting his backpack to a spot that didn't make the scabbard grind into his back.

"An even better thing that our flight doesn't leave for another two hours," Clarice agreed. "Jiminy Christmas, by the time we hike all the way out there, we'll practically be in Japan already!"

Despite the grumbling, which continued in an increasingly jovial fashion during the length of the walk, it only took them thirty minutes to finally reach their gate. Though it could easily be admitted that the reason was not so much short distance as fast walkers, since it was at least half a mile from the security point to the tiny, almost vacant gate at the very end of the building, and by the time they finally made it, both of them were more than glad to sit down.

"Whoof," panted Clarice, flopping back onto the nearest seat. "Glad _that's _done with." She bent over, rubbing her feet. "These sandals are not made for walking long distances."

"These loafers weren't, either." Joseph sat down, grimacing. "My boots are; I was going to wear them. But Elf-made boots attract too much attention, and my hiking boots are nearly impossible to get off."

Clarice sat up, interest sparking in her eyes. "I didn't know you had a pair of Elf-made boots. Did you bring them?"

"Yeah, they were packed." Joseph chucked dryly, rubbing his head. "I have a whole Elf-made outfit, actually. I love them, they're about the most comfortable things I have—and that was the first thing my sisters packed up. I was trying to tell them they didn't have to do that, I was going to get uniforms, but...well..." He shrugged. "I didn't really mind so much about that, to be honest."

"I don't blame you." Clarice leaned back. "Now I kind of want to see you in these Elf-made clothes. Think we'll have a chance?"

Joseph shrugged, looking out the window. "I don't know. Maybe. But I do know this." He reached back, touching _Tellemaera's _hilt. "I wasn't given my legacy now for no reason. I'll probably have to fight—as a Thestanwen—at this school. And if it happens—no, _when _it happens—I'm fighting _as _a Thestanwen. Not in a school uniform, not as a representative of the school. I'll be using my sword..." He glanced over at Clarice and grinned. "And yeah. I'll wear the Elf clothes."

* * *

**1**: **Covenant**: Dating back to the eldest daughter of Adam and Eve, the Covenant is the lifeblood of They Who Stand Between. Under the Covenant, They Who Stand Between are sworn to protect the innocent of mankind from the supernatural-normally creatures of Faerie-and, on occasion, innocent Faerie beings from angry humans. The supernatural creatures under the Covenant are limited in their interactions with humans, and understand that breaking these limitations and preying on humans will bring Those Who Stand Between down on them-often with deadly force.

**2: Sceath**: (SHAY-oth) The deadliest, most vicious branch of the Dark Elves. The Sceath live in a series of caves under the North American continent. Since the downfall of Ancient Greece, they have worshiped the Witch-Goddess, Hecate, and have raised treachery, murder, and constant warfare to an art form. They are the most agile and graceful of the Elves, but also the cruelest and the most bloodthirsty. For the most part, any Sceath that comes to the surface is hunted down and killed without mercy, being way too dangerous to allow loose. Breagan is one of the only three exceptions to the race that have escaped this fate.

**Poster's Note: I did not write this story. My cousin wrote it, but I am very proud of it, and I have her full permission to post it here. So, review and keep in mind that they will be shown to her, so I ask that you please keep it appropriate.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Just Outside of Tokyo_

"Hey, Clarice. Wake up."

Clarice stirred, grunting as the motion awakened a sharp crick in her neck. She sat up straight, rubbing the sore muscle. "Huh?"

Joseph looked back at her. In her current fuzzy state, he looked something like a small chocolate-brown blur sitting on a larger bluish blur. "We're almost there."

"Oh, good." She blinked, trying to focus her eyes. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About four hours." Joseph stretched as much as he could in the seat. "You didn't miss much; after that stopover in Honolulu, there was pretty much nothing but ocean down there. Some islands, but mostly ocean." He shrugged. "I tend not to get excited about water."

"Makes sense." Clarice covered her mouth to hide her yawn. "Neither one of us has sea-Fae blood." Her mouth tasted furry. "Ugh."

"Dry mouth?" Joseph dug a water bottle out of his backpack and held it back to her. "Here; this'll help."

Clarice accepted the bottle. "Thanks. But what I could really use is some food." Her stomach growled, complaining about how long it had gone on a few snacks. "Do you still have anything? Like, those really awesome sandwiches you broke out earlier?"

Joseph grinned and dove back into his backpack. "I sure do. Great-Aunt Harmony made two, for both of us."

"You have a seriously _awesome _great-aunt." Clarice took the wrapped sandwich, trying hard not to drool. She had heard of Harmony Thestanwen's sandwiches before, and she knew they were supposed to be legendary. But hearing about and actually eating one were two different things—though she could now say with perfect sincerity that she would, indeed, be willing to fight someone for one of them. She unwrapped it, noting yet again that Harmony was not above using wards for something so small as making sure a sandwich didn't dry out, even over a ten-hour flight, and bit into it with a slight growl of contentment.

Joseph watched her devour her sandwich and chuckled softly. "You sound like a wild cat when you do that, you know."

"Do what?" Clarice raised an eyebrow at him.

He demonstrated. "Hunch over your food and growl while you're eating. You've never seen a feral cat eat something you put out for them? They snarl and growl the whole time, like they're afraid you're going to take it away from them or something."

"Not just wild cats." She took another bite. "We had a cat once who automatically started growling when you put her in front of food—even if she wasn't eating it." She paused. "That might actually be where I picked up this habit."

Joseph shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Not that I really blame you; these are some _good _sandwiches. Great-Uncle Gabriel is one heck of a lucky guy."

Clarice wiped a dab of secret sauce off her lips. "Isn't Gabriel the Guardian that your dad was squire to?"

"Yep. And he probably would never have met Aunt Harmony if it hadn't been for Dad, so they're both pretty...um...grateful to him. And us, by proxy." He held up the sandwich. "Explaining why she was so willing to provide us with food, even though he's still stationed in San Francisco, and we were staying in the Puyallup Valley."

The _Fasten Seat Belts _light dinged overhead, and the pilot spoke over the comm system. In Japanese. Joseph and Clarice looked at each other, then, as one, reached for their amethysts and tapped them. The stones began to glow with a soft purple light, and immediately, they could understand him.

"-landing in Tokyo in fifteen minutes. Please fasten your seat belts, raise the trays, and return all seats to the upright position."

Joseph looked out the window, down at the city, and instantly felt his agorophobia kick in. He had never seen that many people in one place before, even in the airport or at the disastrous concert when he was thirteen. "Ye deposed gods of war," he muttered. "I seriously hope Yokai Academy is not down in _that_."

"It's not." Clarice finished her sandwich and pushed her purse under the seat in front of her. "I looked at the brochure. It's somewhere out in the country." She paused. "It's a big place, though, and I don't know how many other students will be there. Probably a lot."

"There would _have _to be a lot, if the Manitatsukarera are so worried about this place." Joseph fixed his eyes straight ahead and started breathing deeply as the plane tilted down and began to descend. "I hate this...Sceath aren't meant to fly."

"We couldn't have gone by boat, though; it would take too long."

"And I get seasick three times as bad as I get airsick." Joseph swallowed, not moving his head. "We tried it once, on the ferry at Puget Sound on a trip to Vashon Island. The girls were relatively all right; Dad and I turned absolutely viridian, and we were at the rail the whole stinkin' time. We can't even go canoeing at Lake Mackenzie, down in Texas." The plane bumped as it touched down, and he gulped. "Oh, this is the worst part."

Fortunately, the runway was smooth, and by the time they pulled up to the gate, Joseph's face had lost its greenish tint. As they gathered up their gear, Joseph glanced jealously over at Clarice. "You don't get airsick, do you?"

"Demon-Seeming." She shrugged. "I can't get sick at all, and neither can Dad. Makes it a little easier during flu season, though Mom comes down with something every year. I got so good at taking care of her that it was really surprising when my staff turned out to be birch instead of elder."

"Pure and queenly," Joseph muttered. "My staff is just yew wood."

"Combat," Clarice identified. "I wonder if Mr. Morisaki knew about that when he contacted us."

"Probably not." The plane finally stopped, and Joseph stood gratefully. "He just knew we were Sceath and Demon-Seeming."

"With any luck, that will be enough." Clarice dug in her purse, looking for the photograph of Furumiya. "I wonder where he'll be waiting."

Joseph looked at her purse with a bemused quirk of his eyebrows. "Is there a ward or something on that purse? Any time my sisters got something that covered in glitter, there was always a snowstorm of it following them around whenever they used it."

"No ward." Clarice looked down at it. "Two gallons of clear fingernail polish. Mom said she wasn't cleaning up after all that glitter, so if I wanted it, I was finding some way to keep the glitter on it. I spent five week's worth of chore money on the fingernail polish, but it doesn't shed anymore."

Tokyo International was worse than Sea-Tac. Clarice looked around at the crowds, back at Joseph—who looked like he was going to turn into a cross between treed cat and porcupine at any moment—and sighed. She reached into her purse, activated the Unnoticable ward, and pulled her staff out.

"Stay close to me," she said to Joseph. "I'm going to activate a light shield."

"What's a light shield?"

"A name more sophisticated than 'Don't-Bump-Me'." She tapped the ward. "It just activates courtesy levels, and should give us some breathing room."

"Thanks." Joseph moved close—way too close. She wondered if he knew how light his shirt was, because she could feel all the ridges along his torso.

"Give _me _some breathing room, or you're getting the Elbow of Death in the ribs," she growled, stepping away from him. "Sheesh. At least I didn't _try _to bang into you in Sea-Tac."

"Sorry." Joseph still looked as tense as a cat in a dogcatcher's wagon, but at least he was no longer gluing himself to her. "Let's try to find Mr. Furumiya."

"Easier done than said."

Joseph looked at her, puzzled. "You mean _said _than _done_, right?"

"No." Clarice nodded toward the bottom of the escalator. "There he is."

Joseph followed her nod and saw him: a tall, neatly-dressed man with unusually slanted eyes and long, silky hair that seemed to ripple in a breeze every time someone walked past him. He would have stood out anyway—and was attracting glances from every female that passed him—but, just to be sure, he was holding a sign that was not in kanji. And the sign had their names on it. "That was easy."

"Mr. Morisaki probably remembered that neither one of us is used to big crowds." Clarice stepped onto the escalator, holding her staff lightly in one hand. "Come on; let's go meet up with him."

Furumiya had clearly seen them at the same moment that they saw him. His eyes—there was an Elf-like brightness to them, as their turquoise color was visible even from the top of the escalator—tracked them all the way down. But he didn't move until they came up to him, at which point he lowered the sign and bowed slightly.

"Clarice, Joseph," he greeted. "Welcome to Japan."

Joseph awkwardly bowed back, remembering just in time that the Japanese did not shake hands. Clarice, her hand zipping up to her neckline, followed suit. "Mr. Furumiya."

He smiled. "Come with me." His eyes lingered on Joseph for a moment. "I am surprised; I understood that Sceath did not bow."

Joseph straightened. "I've never been in the Underlands; but according to my dad, down there it's a good way to get killed." He shrugged a little. "I'm not used to it, but you're not used to shaking hands, so."

Furumiya's smile widened. "So indeed. Come, then; let's claim your luggage and get out to the car."

"So what can you tell us about Yokai Academy?" Clarice asked as they got settled in the silver-blue minivan.

Furumiya slid behind the wheel, the motion oddly sinuous. She couldn't decide if it reminded her more of flowing water or a snake, though she hoped it was the former. "I? Not much more than has already been told. The Headmaster—though our ally in name—is very careful not to allow Manitatsukarera to join, and we cannot make our way to it without invitation."

"Where is it?" Joseph stretched out in the back seat, not quite preparing to curl into a fetal position. "Somewhere in the country, I hope."

"It is. It's actually in a spatial pocket realm, not quite part of the world. We know where it is physically located, but the property was...packed away."

Clarice scrunched up her face, trying to figure out what she had been told. "So...is it in Faerie, then?"

"Perhaps on a similar plane, but no, it is not part of the Perilous Realm—though it is quite perilous enough itself." Furumiya steered into the river of traffic. "It is in its own little pocket of the universe. There is a sort of tunnel that will allow you to reach there; I will have to leave you before the bus comes to take you, since I don't want you connected with us. I, in particular, am fairly well-known in the Spirit Realm."

"Why's that?"

Furumiya laughed. "For very nearly the same reason you and your parents are well-known in the west." He looked back at them, and they were both struck again by how clear and bright his turquoise eyes were. "My father is a river-spirit: a transformed Lung dragon."

Clarice stared, mouth open, and Joseph sat up in astonishment. "A Lung river dragon?" he demanded. "How the heck does _that _happen?"

Furumiya laughed. "In the same way a Half-Sceath or half-Demon-Seeming happens: a very strong-willed mother. My father was somewhat...boisterous, and prone to causing trouble. So my mother, Aoyama, took it on herself to stop him. She was a powerful Judge, and I believe she would have gladly killed him if he did not come around. But he was fascinated by this tiny little woman who faced him unafraid."

"Tiny?" Joseph looked pointedly at the top of Furumiya's head, which was visible over the car seat.

"My height does not come from my mother," he answered calmly. "She was barely four feet tall. But she was fierce, and she _was _going to stop the river-spirit who thought it amusing to flood and wash away villages. They never said if there was a fight, though there may have been. But she defeated him in the end, and, rather than perish, he swore never again to overflow his banks and imperil human lives. She was satisfied, and returned to her home. It was barely five months later that he came to court her, having taken a human form. She strung him along for a while, but it intrigued _her _that the river-dragon she had defeated would take on the shape of a man." He smiled. "They were married, and I came along a few years later."

"Wow." Clarice shook her head. "I guess it never occurred to me that stories like that happen all over the world. Jakob Werstenszwisch and the Vila, Hilda; my parents; Joseph's parents; and now yours. I'd love to gather them all someday."

"Perhaps you will have a chance." He turned off the highway and down onto a more lightly trafficked road. "I am sure there are many who would tell you their tales. For the moment, though, it would be wiser to focus on your own. Morisaki-_sama _did tell you what to expect of your schoolmates?"

"Creatures from myth, legend, and even dark tales," Joseph quoted.

"And he gave us a pretty extensive list," added Clarice. "Are there really going to be vampires and werewolves there?"

"Oh yes. I don't know how many, but there are a number of werewolves, and at least one vampire." Furumiya laughed. "She doesn't know it, but the vampire, Moka Shuzen, is related to a Manitatsukarera: Finn Hashiao, a good friend of mine."

"I'm guessing there's quite the story behind _that _name." Joseph sat up, no longer having trouble now that they were leaving the city.

"You're right. His father is Liam Padriac Thestanatween, from Ireland, who grew up in the courts of the Tuatha de Dannan. Liam was never clear on what brought him to Japan three hundred years ago; but that was when he met Asamori Shuzen. And in their case, it was the strong and stalwart manwho tamed the monstrous woman. Her brother, Issa Shuzen—" a frown crossed Furumiya's face, "The patriarch of the clan, and none too fond of They Who Stand Between—was furious about it. Since he couldn't go up against them without falling under the Covenant, something he's been exceedingly careful to avoid, he did the next best thing and cut his sister off, completely disowned her."

"What a jerk!" Clarice's eyes flashed.

"He's dangerous." Furumiya glanced at her seriously. "With any luck, the closest you'll come to him is his daughter; but if he involves himself with you two in any way, shape or form, do _not _try to take him on by yourselves. Call us for backup. If you invite us, we can get into the pocket, and we will come."

They both nodded. "What else will we have to look out for, do you know?"

"There have been rumors of a succubus, and there _are_ a number of incubi. Certain creatures will not be kindly to Elves of any sort, and possibly less friendly to a Sceath—though coming to Japan makes it more likely that they will not know exactly what you are. And there is an orc." He glanced at them both again. "Saizo. Watch out for him. He was sent to Yokai Academy to keep the Judges—and more than Judges—off him, as he's a serial rapist. It was his last chance to escape execution. I don't know if he's changed or not, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

Joseph growled, reaching back to rub _Tellemaera's _hilt. The power of the blade rushed along his arm. "I'll try to control myself. I hate rapists." He glanced to the seat ahead and saw that Clarice had gone rigid. "You all right?"

"A succubus and incubi," she answered in a voice that had gone brittle. "Great."

"Uhhh...is there a problem?"

She held up her arm, showing off the silver band. "You know that Demon-Seeming just _look _like demons, right? Dad and I are both actually angelic in nature. And since Dad was sired by an incubus..."

Joseph stiffened. "You're the angelic opposite of succubi and incubi, aren't you?"

"Yes. It's going to be _hard _not to unleash myself and attack them." She took a deep breath and swallowed. "I'll try to keep away from them. Anything else?"

"Nothing more earth-shaking than what I've already told you." Furumiya looked ahead. "There's your bus stop. He'll be here to pick you up in less than half an hour." He steered to the curb and parked, then looked back at them. "I can't block the stop, and it's not wise to let the driver see me...but would you want me to stay in the area and keep an eye on you until you're on the bus?"

Joseph and Clarice exchanged glances. That was a no-brainer if anything was. "Yes. Very much so."

He nodded. "I'll park around the corner and up the street a bit, then. Let's get your luggage out."

Joseph attempted to bolt out of the seat, only to have _Tellemaera_ snag on the strap and bring him up short. "Uh—I think I'd better try to take my—"

It was too late. Furumiya gripped the handle of the old-fashioned traveling trunk and pulled. Then he stopped and stared at it. "What in the name of nine hells is _in _this trunk?!"

"Just about everything from my room but the furniture." Joseph finally got himself disentangled. "My sisters helped me pack. I have no idea how they got the thing onto the plane, but I think it involved a forklift." He came around the car and grabbed it. "Mom and Aunt Paige put a spell on this a long time ago, when it became clear we were going to spend a lot of time moving back and forth between Washington State and Texas; I can haul it around no matter what's been stuffed in there. But I'm sometimes the only one who can do it."

Furumiya eyed the trunk speculatively. "It's certainly been a while since I've encountered something I couldn't lift. Your sisters must have been...enthusiastic."

"They stripped my dang room. Virtually everything I _own _is in this trunk." Joseph set it on the curb. "I hope this bus has good shocks."

Clarice's bag was much smaller, but appeared ready to burst at the seams. "Mom and I did almost the same thing," she confessed. "There's a void in this, though, so it doesn't weigh three tons." She glanced at the overstuffed appearance ruefully. "It was my first time adding a void to something, though, so I didn't quite get it right. That's why it looks like this."

"I would be uneasy about opening it," Furumiya admitted. "It almost looks like it's about to blow up." He glanced up and down the street. "I'll get into position. If you need anything, I'll be in earshot. Just yell."

He looked at them one last time, then entered the car and drove away. Joseph closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the car's engine. When it stopped, he opened his eyes again and looked. Sure enough, he could still see the minivan, just visible behind a scrubby tree. Knowing they hadn't been abandoned helped a lot. He sat down on the trunk, leaving room for Clarice to join him, removed his backpack, and dug out the book he'd had to stop reading while on the airplane. If it would take thirty minutes for the bus to arrive, he was going to spend his time wisely.

They heard the bus coming well before it arrived. At the sound of the squeaking, chuffing and grinding, Joseph looked up from his book, and Clarice lowered an intricate needlepoint project. It drew closer, and they exchanged worried looks.

"You think that's the bus?" Clarice asked uneasily.

"Murphy's Law says yes," Joseph answered grimly, looking down at his case. "We might have some trouble here."

When the bus came into sight, they both stood, staring in dismay. Clarice was the first to speak. "I...am not confident in that thing getting us halfway down the road, let alone all the way to a school—especially with your trunk in it."

"Hopefully it's sturdier than it looks." Joseph frantically combated the look of the bus with the image of a Louisiana relative's ancient, clattery Model T Ford that was actually stronger and more powerful than some semis. "Some of the students probably aren't lightweights."

"I hope you're right." Clarice resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to where Furumiya still waited in the minivan. "I also hope this isn't a bad idea."

Joseph touched her shoulder, hoping that he wouldn't come across as creepy. "Good idea or bad idea, I'm going to stick with it and you all the way."

The bus shuddered to a stop, and the door creaked open. Joseph and Clarice exchanged looks. Then he slung his backpack over his shoulder, she tucked her needlepoint back into her purse, and both grabbed their luggage.

"Come on in," invited the driver, turning a little in his seat and giving them a smile that was a cross between a knowing smirk and a leer. "On your way to the school, are you?"

"Yep. Transferring from America." Joseph hauled his trunk along until he reached the middle of the bus, where he shoved it in between two seats and crawled in on top of it. He wasn't willing to risk himself to the back of the bus, let alone the wheels. Clarice sat in the seat opposite him, rubbing her armband and sitting stiffly.

The driver closed the door and put the bus in gear. "Odd folk go there. Are you odd folk?"

"I've heard us called that." Joseph had already guessed that the driver was some form of goblin, and he refused to allow himself to be intimidated.

"Hope you two are prepared," he chuckled as they wobbled away from the curve. "Yokai Academy is a scary place."

Joseph clutched the edges of his seat. This time he didn't answer, instead throwing all his effort and willpower into not getting sick. Clarice spoke, her tone an odd, sinister softness that matched the driver's.

"We're scary ourselves."

"Are you then?" He glanced back at them, chuckling.

Clarice smiled, moving her hand away from her armband. "Oh yes." Joseph glanced over at her and held back a shudder. A shadowy cloud rippled around her form, and the armband glowed brightly to combat it. At the moment, she did not look at all like his pretty cousin. "Oh, yes."

To his surprise, the bus driver's tone turned almost respecting as he glanced back at her. "Hmmm; you are, aren't you? Keep that armband close. And stay away from some of your classmates. Not everyone will be impressed."

"Not everyone was impressed with Bruce Banner," she answered coolly.

The bus lurched on. Clarice sat still; Joseph sprawled over his seats, his eyes closed, hoping he wouldn't be sick.

"Watch yourselves," the driver rasped. "We're about to enter a loooong tunnel."

"How long will it be?"

The driver just chuckled. "Have to wait until we get in there, won't you?"

Joseph just hoped the ride wouldn't last much longer. The stupid lurching and swaying of the darn bus was almost as bad as the ferry trip. He wished he'd stolen one of the unused airsickness bags from the plane.

There was a lurch, a feeling of weightlessness, and darkness fell. Then—Joseph choked and closed his eyes again as a swirl of psychedelic colors broke on the windows. From somewhere behind him, Clarice squeaked a word that sounded...he hadn't been listening, but he could have sworn she just said something obscene.

Joseph didn't care about the colors. He was just grateful that the shaking of the bus had stopped. The colors outside the windows he ignored; focusing on them made him wonder what he had been drinking, or if the fumes of the bus were hallucinogenic. But wherever they were, and whatever this place was, driving through it was smooth and easy to take. His stomach began to settle down.

"We're approaching the end of the tunnel." The driver sounded almost smug.

Joseph sat up and then wished he hadn't when they dropped almost three inches to a rough dirt road. Once his heart rate returned to normal, he looked outside, and noticed...a scarecrow. Not a friendly, Oz-type one, either; it looked more like what someone would set up outside of a scream factory. A sign had been draped across its arms. He gripped his amethyst and, since he couldn't exactly reach out to tap the sign, concentrated on it. The words swam and blurred, but he was able to make them out.

_Yokai Academy_.

A thrill of anticipation ran down his back. _We're here_.

The bus rattled on for a few more yards before it finally stopped. The door creaked open. "Well, kids, we're here."

Joseph was the first out. He stood on the faint path, his head tipped back, breathing deeply, and thanking God that the earth was not moving. Clarice followed.

"Well. This is...welcoming."

Joseph opened his eyes and looked around. He hadn't noticed his surroundings at first, being too eager to get out of that dang bus, but now that he was less motion sick...she was right.

"School for monsters," he muttered. "I am suddenly very glad I am not a surface Elf."

"Me too." She looked around, taking in the sullen overcast sky, the gravestones lining the path, and the dead trees clustered in spooky, scraggly groves. "This would be beyond depressing for the Faerie-kin—even the Unseelie."

Joseph grimaced. "Not all of them. I can just see a Red Cap or a troll lurking around here." A flicker of red caught his eye, and he peered through the trees. "Ugh, and that lake would be the _perfect _home for a Nuckelevee or two." He shuddered. "Great. Now that I've said that, I'm not going to be able to go near it."

There was a loud _thud _behind them, followed by a softer plop. They turned to see the bus driver straightening, looking down at Joseph's trunk with a bemused air. He looked up at them.

"Kid, next time let your sisters know they don't have to pack the house. Never met a suitcase I couldn't handle, but that came close."

"I _did _tell them. They just didn't listen." Joseph picked up the end of it, then stopped. "Wait a minute, how did you know my sisters packed this?"

The smug look was back as the driver went to his seat. Just before he closed the door, he grinned at them. "You kids have fun now; watch your backs, and don't burn the place down."

"What?" Clarice picked up her bag.

The driver simply closed the door and turned the bus around. Clarice and Joseph exchanged looks, shrugged, and turned back up the path. Then Joseph whipped around, his eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" Clarice tipped her head and looked at him.

"That guy's _weird_." Joseph shuddered. "And he knows what we are; pegged us as Sceath and Demon-Seeming. I _know _we didn't mention it."

"I have a pretty good idea of what _he _is," muttered Clarice. "But I'm not sure, so I'm not going to start throwing names around."

She picked up her purse, shouldered her bag, and started down the path. Joseph pitched his backpack over his shoulder and followed, dragging his trunk behind him.

The path was long, but neither one was in a hurry this time. They walked at a steady pace, talking of various small things, and trying hard not to let the gloomy settings get to them.

"_YEEEEK! _Get away from me!"

Both heads snapped up at the same time, and, without looking at each other or even wondering what they should do, Joseph and Clarice bolted toward the sound. In a few seconds, they were past the trees and saw what was going on: a little girl in a witch outfit struggling with a group of thuggish-looking boys, who were shoving her and laughing.

"Oh, no you don't," Joseph growled. "Clarice, get her out of there!"

"On it!" She slammed her staff onto the ground, sending a shockwave toward the thugs, and used her left hand to trace a glowing pattern in the air. "_Come away, o little child_," she whispered, "_to the waters and the wild, with a fairy hand-in-hand, for the world's more full of weeping than thou shouldst understand_."

The Call worked, as did the opening provided by the shockwave. The girl darted through the staggering goons and raced toward them. The thugs turned, yelling with anger. Joseph hefted his trunk up onto his shoulder.

"Here!" he shouted, stepping forward as the girl darted past him. "Catch!"

With that, he hurled the trunk directly into them. It was like bowling with a rectangle, and all the pins obligingly went down. He grinned and flexed. "Got you! How do you like Mjolnir, boys?"

"Mjolnir?" The girl looked up at him, puzzled.

Clarice laughed. "Thor's hammer," she explained. "Only he could move it. And that trunk of Joseph's is so heavy, it's a little like that."

A chorus of startled, obscene howling rose from the squashed cluster as they discovered that indeed, it was like trying to lift the fabled hammer. Joseph grinned cockily and traced a rune of his own in the air above them.

"Oh, come now! Such language, and around women and kids too!" The _Silence _ward took effect and shut off the swearing. "There, that's better."

The girl giggled. "Thanks! Those guys are always picking on me." She glanced at Clarice. "What did you do back there, to make me come to you?"

"Its name is _The Faerie Call_," answered Clarice. "We're only supposed to use it to call people out of danger." She glanced wryly at Joseph. "And since I guessed he was about to throw that packed elephant he's been hauling around, I figured that counted."

"_The Faerie Call_." She looked up, an impish gleam in her eyes. "Could you teach me that?"

"Wouldn't work." Joseph strolled toward them jauntily. "I think I'm going to wait to retrieve my trunk until there's someone else around to keep those goons under control, and definitely until you're out of their reach. They are pretty darn mad. _The Faerie Call _only works with people who actually _have _Fae blood. I might be able to do it, but Clarice is way better at that sort of thing."

"So you have Fae blood?" She tipped her head to the side, considering.

"Pure Dark Elf." Clarice shrugged and giggled. "That's not all I am, but it's a pretty considerable part. And Joseph is half-Sceath."

"I'm Yukari." The girl bowed. "And, if I can give you some advice? Don't go around telling people you're half-breeds." She scowled over her shoulder at the cluster writhing under the trunk, now howling inaudibly. "They're not the only ones who'll use that as an excuse to pick on you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Joseph picked up his backpack and rested his hand for a moment on _Tellemaera_. A vicious smile flitted across his lips for a moment, then he smoothed it out again. "Want to walk us to the school? We're brand-new here, and I don't exactly want to get lost."

* * *

The school was big. That wasn't the surprise. The surprise was what it looked like.

"_That's _a _school!?_" Clarice gaped. "It looks like—looks like someone stole a Victorian nob's manor house and transplanted it!"

"No kidding." Joseph looked up, squinting. "Is that a walkway on the roof?"

"Yep." Yukari grinned at them, proud of the school. "What should I show you first?"

Joseph shouldered his backpack. "I don't know. But I do know we need to visit the Headmaster first. Transferring in the middle of the semester...I would imagine there are some problems to be ironed out."

Yukari cocked her head to the side. "Probably. All right then; I'll see you two later." She dashed off, waving over her shoulder. "Thanks for helping me!"

Clarice waved back. "She's a cute one. Probably the closest thing we'll find to Stand Between for here; she may be a witch, but at the moment she's just a kid."

Joseph glanced back to where his trunk was just visible, still pinning the thuggish group to the ground. "That was more fun than it should have been, especially since I've got a bad feeling that those guys are _not _going to forget that quickly. I may have made my first set of enemies."

Clarice glanced at him as they stepped through the door. "Do you have so many you have to keep track?"

"Not yet." Joseph sighed. "But if Dad kept records of how many people wanted him dead, we'd be swimming in papers. At the very least, ninety-five percent of the Underlands wants his head—and not just because Mom killed Hecate to save him before I was born."

"You've got a point. It probably isn't easy for a Sceath to go through his life without picking up enemies." Clarice sidestepped to avoid a hurrying female student, exchanging nods with her as she darted past.

Joseph turned to watch her go. "Pink hair," he mused. "I wonder what kind of dye these girls use to get that particular color. That was bubble-gum pink."

Clarice made a face. "I hope I don't have to dye _my _hair something weird to fit in around here." She stroked her long, silky, blue-black locks. "I like my hair color."

"Hopefully not." Joseph tried to picture Clarice with hair that color of pink, and instantly wished there was such a thing as mind bleach. "Uh. Let's see if we can find the Headmaster's office."

"Clarice and Joseph Thestanwen." The deep, rolling voice was meant to impress and intimidate, as was the room: a cavernous place lit only by a few candles and its walls hung with magical artifacts of varying types. Joseph and Clarice tried not to look at each other, but if he had to guess, he would suspect that she felt like him: not sure whether the effect was actually intimidating, or a bit on the silly side. "You probably realize that this is a bit on the...unusual side."

"We're quite aware, sir." Clarice appeared to have elected herself spokesman, which was just fine with Joseph. He was more likely to say the wrong thing—and looking around at some of the artifacts was distracting him.

"A Sceath Elf, and a Demon-Seeming. Those are rare; we've never taken your kind on before. Were you causing trouble, that they decided you _had _to be sent here?"

Clarice shook her head. "No sir. Our parents simply decided that it would be good training for us to come to a school before we went out into the world, and they were persuaded not to wait before enrolling us."

_That's true._ Joseph was grateful that she was talking. He would have said something about missions and blown everything out of the water before they even got to their first class. Clarice, however, seemed to have the skill to tell the truth without telling all of it.

The Headmaster, his expression apparently unchanging—it was hard to be sure under that bizarre veil hiding his eyes—leaned back into his seat. "I see." What exactly he saw, he did not explain. Instead, he handed them both a sheet of paper. "Your schedules and classes are on this. You will be allowed an hour to settle in; I'll have the staff show you to the dorms. Be aware, it is forbidden to reveal your monster forms on school property. If you have a score to settle with someone, the woods and the lake are big enough for that without taking it into the school."

"Er—about that." Joseph touched _Tellemaera_. "I, ah, threw my trunk at a group of students who were picking on a little girl while we were coming up to the school. It's...heavy. Heavy enough to have pinned them there. Could I have one of the staff come with me when I go retrieve it, so they don't decide to gang up on me?"

That got a reaction. "You pinned a group of students under a trunk?"

"Yes sir." He tried not to grin as he recalled the moment they had gone down. "The way they were swearing, I don't think they were really hurt, but they weren't going anywhere, either."

"I see." The Headmaster seemed to be wondering if he wanted to know the full story, then shook his head. "Yes, I will send one of the security committee with you so you don't have to...pin any of them again. But be aware, your first class starts in an hour."

"Yes sir."

* * *

_Naturally, Clarice and I have different classes_. Joseph looked glumly down at his paper. _I hope I don't flub this completely_.

Inside the classroom, someone else was being introduced—someone who didn't sound happy about it. "Fine, if I have to. My name's Kazuken Dramorgon. You already know my twin brother, so there's not much to say."

_Wow, another new kid. He sounds like a sweetheart_. The door opened and the teacher beckoned him in. He took a deep breath to quell a sudden surge of stage fright, touched _Tellemaera's _hilt again, and walked in.

The kids in the room looked fairly normal—with the exception of...that had to have been Kazuken. Besides the unusual hair and eyes, and the expression that would have curdled fresh milk at twenty yards, he was also the one the other kids kept stealing glances at. Joseph tried not to feel delighted that the other new kid looked so obviously different; it might take a little of the pressure off him.

He realized that the others in the room were expecting him to say something. Touching _Tellemaera _again for the needed burst of confidence, he grinned awkwardly. "Uh...hi. I'm Joseph Kalvary, a transfer student from the States. I just...hope I can have a great year here." He resisted the urge to give that surly kid glaring at him his dad's patented Scorcher, nodded at the others, and found the most inconspicuous seat in the class.

Fortunately, Joseph was good at English, even if he did have to tap the paper and the pens with his amethyst every time they were switched. Even more fortunately, he was passing under the radar. A black kid in a Japanese school was unusual, but not as unusual as the increasingly grouchy kid with silver-striped hair in front of him. His twin seemed to be enjoying himself, though.

_That Kazuken looks like he would be as much fun to be around as a porcupine on rocket skates, but his brother..._ Joseph wondered what the easiest way to get acquainted with the twin would be.

He heard a muttered exchange between them and bit back a laugh. They sounded almost like Rachel and Melody getting geared up for one of their incomprehensible squabbles. _Nice to know that twins are the same the world around. _

About that time, he felt eyes on him, and glanced over to see...great. At least two girls were sneaking glances at him, and one of the thugs—recognizable by the imprint of a luggage band on his face—was giving him the evil eye. Joseph raised an eyebrow and looked back down at his paper. A few seconds later, something hit him behind the ear. A spitwad. He flicked it off and ignored it. The second one hit his paper. That one he returned, with a touch more velocity.

He heard a smothered giggle and sighed, realizing that the spitwad war wasn't going unnoticed. _If he throws another one at me, I _am _using the Scorcher. _He reached up and rubbed his eyes, whispering a few words to lift his glamour just a little. It was a trick Breagan used when he wanted to get the full force of his personality and bloodline across without lifting his glamour altogether—and, as someone who had been on the receiving end of it more than once, Joseph could attest to how effective it was.

_Splat_. A wet, juicy glob smacked him right in the neck. He didn't even have to _think _about it. He turned and glared.

The thug jerked back so hard he fell out of his seat, and everyone who'd been watching gasped and turned quickly back to their papers. Joseph kept the Scorcher up a few more seconds, then looked back down at his desk, reasserting the glamour. He heard a soft chuckle ahead and looked up to see Kazuken looking back at him. "Something wrong?"

"Good job." He turned around again.

Joseph eyed his back, then shook his head. _I don't want to know. And I'm not sure I want his approval_. He went back to his work, more than a little pleased that there were no more spitwads.

There was a problem, though; one he was trying not to think about too much. For the most part, his uniform fit. The pants were fine, the jacket was loose enough to move in, and even the tie, which he found corny, worked. The problem was his shirt. _I don't know how they did it, but they measured my glamour instead of me. _The shirt would have fit perfectly on the lanky teenager he appeared to be. But his real self was almost twenty pounds heavier—all of it muscle, and a lot of that concentrated around the chest and shoulders. He could move, as long as he didn't button the shirt up all the way. A fancy rearranging of the tie and the help of a quickly added glamour kept it from being seen.

_Avoid tight shirts. Sorry, Dad; I wish I could._

At last, the lesson was over, the bell rang, and everyone stood up. Joseph grunted a little as he stood; he wasn't used to sitting for so long. _Next class_? He looked at his sheet and rolled his eyes. He honestly didn't need _that _one, but...well, it might be helpful to listen in on, anyway. He looked around, hoping he would be able to find his way to it.

"Sst! Joseph!"

He looked around, startled by the whisper, and not entirely sure where it had come from. It repeated, and this time, he caught a glimpse of a hand beckoning him over from inside a nearby room.

"Uh...Clarice?"

"Yes. I need your help. _Really _need your help."

Puzzled, he pushed open the door, and instantly stopped dead, his eyes bulging. "Uhhh—that isn't the _uniform_, is it?"

Clarice frantically tried to tug her itty-bitty skirt down lower. "Yes, it is. I hoped it would be all right, all the other girls are wearing ones this short...but it's—I—they were ogling me all through class. I need to do something about this!"

"Uh..." Joseph's cold-water charm blasted him again, and he swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Glamour!" She was so agitated she was bouncing, which...really wasn't helping matters. "Can't you make it look longer?"

"Well...that's a kind of finicky thing, but...I can try." Joseph knelt down, grateful that he had shut the door behind them, because this was going to look weird. Whispering under his breath, he touched the hem of the skirt and drew his hands down, focusing and releasing his power into it. The skirt responded. Enthusiastically. "Uhh...oops."

Clarice looked down and smiled in relief. "That's _perfect_. Thank you so much!"

Joseph blinked at his work. He had taken it from a dinky miniskirt to a maxi that barely let her ankles peep through. "I...meant to just take it to the knees. Or calves."

"Trust me. This is better." She grimaced. "That orc Mr. Furumiya warned us about? Saizo? He's in my class, and I've been his eye candy ever since I walked in."

"Ugh." Joseph grimaced. "One of the thugs I flattened with my trunk is in _my _class, and he started throwing spitwads at me. I used one of Dad's tricks, so he may back off...but there's another new kid, too, and I got his attention as well. He's...let's just say, not real friendly."

"Good luck with that." Clarice scowled. "You know, this may be against the rules, but even with the glamoured skirt, I am _not _going back in the same room with that creep without some way to keep him off." She held out her hand. "_Lorien, _to me!"

There was a flash, and her staff appeared. Joseph stared. "I didn't know you named your staff."

"Mom said it would probably be a good idea, if I was going to leave it places and find I wanted it." Clarice tapped the _Unnoticable _ward. "And I want it now." She smirked at him. "Aunt Bodie did the _Anti-Stalker _ward."

"Yikes. That should do the trick." Joseph was well acquainted with Aunt Boadiciea Thestanwen, who came from a much earlier era and was stricter than seven Victorian matrons put together. She did not disapprove of young men, as such, but she did believe that young men and young women should not mingle until the young men were settled and looking to court a wife. Delilah Oakheart-Thestanwen was the foremost wardcaster; but Aunt Bodie's Anti-Stalker wards were in a league of their own. He could not think of _anything—_even a golem—who would willingly stay in the area where one of those had been activated. "Okay, I'd better run. I don't know when the next class starts, but I don't want to start things here by being late to half of them."

"I'll see you later."

Joseph dashed out the door and down the hall, hoping that he could find his way to his next class now that most of the others had already left the area.

* * *

Clarice walked to her next class with a bit more spring in her step. Her legs were modestly covered, and, now that _Lorien _was in her hand, she felt a lot more confident about her surroundings. The fact that her next class was math took a bit of the joy out of the day; it wasn't her favorite subject, though she wasn't abysmal at it by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, she was...pretty good at it. The problem was getting her mind out of it afterward.

_Demon-Seeming_. It was going to be her catchphrase for just about every weird thing about her.

She entered the classroom with everyone else and gasped, jolting a little as she realized that the temperature had abruptly plummeted. A moment of concentration brought a soothing warmth curling around her limbs—another perk of her nature—but she wondered why this particular room was so cold. She glanced around stealthily, failed to see Saizo, and chose a seat near the back of the room. The girl across from her, a quiet-looking miss with shoulder-length purple hair, glanced up at her and smiled timidly, working a lollipop around in her mouth.

"Uh—hello."

"Hello." Clarice nodded to her, resting _Lorien_ against the back wall, within easy reach if she needed it. The other girl glanced at it and stiffened, just a little. Clarice raised her eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." The purple-haired girl lowered her voice. "Are you They Who Stand Between?"

Clarice stilled, and turned to her slowly. "How did you guess?" She kept her voice low enough to be nearly inaudible.

"I'm a _yuki-onna_." The other girl had started to tremble. "We're under the Covenant—I feel the power in your—your staff. Why are you here?"

Clarice looked around. "The Manitatsukarera are worried about the others here," she said quietly. "The ones that _aren't _under the Covenant. They want me and my cousin Joseph to find out exactly what's going on—and possibly place some other races under the Covenant, so that they can be stopped in case of trouble."

"Okay." She calmed down a little. "I was afraid—afraid it was me, actually."

"Not that I know of." Clarice glanced to the front of the class and scowled as one of the thugs from earlier entered, along with Saizo. He picked her out instantly and grinned, running his tongue along his teeth. "_He's _the one more likely to cause trouble." She curled her lip, reaching back unobtrusively to grip _Lorien_, her fingers close to the Anti-Stalker ward.

The purple-haired girl shivered. "A lot of girls have had trouble with him," she whispered, glancing at the invisible staff. "What are you going to do?"

"This." Clarice whispered a few words to direct the staff's power and activated the ward. Saizo strode along the aisle toward her, smirking, oh so confident—then stopped ten feet away, as if he had run into a wall. His eyes blanked out, and he retreated a few steps, taking an empty seat some distance away from them. Clarice smirked. "Heh."

The girl stared in awe. "How did you do that?"

Clarice grinned at her. "Special ward on my staff. I could make it work on all the guys, but I'm just worried about _him, _so that's who it's working on."

"That's cool." The girl smiled at her shyly. "I'm Mizore. What's your name?"

"Clarice." She noticed the other thug scowling at her and lifted her chin, daring him to make trouble. His glared darkened, but he turned away. "Hmm; I wonder if that's the one Joseph had to deal with earlier."

"Silence in the classroom, please."

The teacher entered. And in spite of her request—or order—for silence, a buzz swept the room. Clarice stared, her mouth sagging open in shock, her face burning scarlet. She had never seen anyone dressed like that before—at least, not inside. And she certainly hadn't expected a _teacher _to be wearing—wearing—

The woman glanced over her class, her eyes hooded, then turned to the blackboard and started her lesson. Clarice wasn't sure what it was about. She would have been very surprised if _anyone _could tell what she was saying. With her back to them, the enormous gap in front revealing...revealing everything you'd _expect_ to see on a remarkably buxom woman with her shirt half-unbuttoned, was not visible. But the thigh-high leather skirt was just as bad—worse, actually—in the back. She could hear the boys gulping, gasping, and hyperventilating all over the room. Grimly, she looked at the blackboard, relieved to see some familiar mechanics being explained.

_Good thing Joseph's not in here. Good grief. I'm going to have to warn him about this. _She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. _All right. Math. I can do this. _She stuck the tip of her tongue out, scowling. _I hate doing this, it takes me forever to get _out _of it. _But if she wanted to stay sane, and not pass out from blood loss, it would be necessary. She looked at the problems written down on the blackboard, focused on them, and considered just how...rational the world was.

The resulting mindset was not exactly cold, emotionless, Vulcan logic—but it was pretty close. And it wasn't affected by teachers who thought their true place was the top of a Babylonian ziggurat. Clarice calmly applied herself to her work.

* * *

Joseph, meanwhile, was having his own problems. The class itself was easy (it wasn't as if he didn't know how to behave in public, even if he generally didn't go out in it,) and the teacher, Miss Nekonome, while not quite conservatively dressed, was both chipper and not...attractive in _that _way. The way the giggling, blue-haired girl trying very hard to get his attention behind him was. He had nearly bumped into her on the way in, and had noticed...would have been hard-pressed _not _to notice...how well-endowed she was. And she was very, _very _well-endowed. The charm had worked faster that time—not to mention she looked to be about Rachel or Melody's age—and he had managed not to gape, drool, or stare.

But for some reason, she now seemed interested in him. Two oddly-folded notes had flipped over his shoulder into his lap, and, since those had gone ignored, she had moved up to flicking pencil erasers at his back to make him look at her. Using the Scorcher on a giggly, bubbly girl seemed wrong, so he just hunkered down and hoped she would finally leave him alone.

At least she quit trying to pester him when Miss Nekonome turned around. And since the cheerful teacher wheeled around like a revolving door, that was fairly often. The bigger problem was that everyone else, by now, was aware of how hard the girl was trying. The boys were looking at him like he was crazy; the girls were leaning together to whisper.

Finally, the pink-haired girl he'd passed earlier took pity on him. "Kurumu," she hissed, leaning over to jab the little hussy in the shoulder. "Knock it off. Leave him alone."

"Moka," Kurumu whined, "you're no fun."

Joseph felt an odd...ripple behind him and stilled, wondering what the heck had just happened.

"No, I'm not. Knock it off. Leave him alone!"

Pouting audibly, Kurumu backed down. Joseph turned to glance at the pink-haired girl, Moka. _Didn't I hear that name before? _"Thanks," he mouthed.

She smiled back. Moka was quite pretty, with a slightly more...wholesome appearance than Kurumu. Even better, the sheepishly-grinning kid beside her seemed to have a protectively hovering air when it came to her. _She's already got a boyfriend, so she won't be looking for another one. Good_. He started to look down at his desk again when he felt it.

"What the..." Slowly, Joseph looked back over at the other boy. He closed his eyes and sensed. _I wasn't wrong._ He looked quickly back at his desk, grinning so broadly that the black-haired minx sitting next to him eyed him curiously. _I wasn't wrong. That kid isn't a monster of any sort! He's human!_

He reached back, wrapping his fingers around _Tellemaera's _hilt, and drinking in the power rush. _I Stand Between. And thank God and all his angels, there is someone here I _can _Stand Between for! _He lowered his hands, still smiling. _I can't wait to tell Clarice._

* * *

"Hey! You! _American!_" It would have been hard to put more venom into any four-letter word. An added advantage was there was no doubt as to who it was meant for.

Joseph turned, irritated, to face the thug he'd roasted earlier. "What? Back for more?" He touched _Tellemaera_, deliberately not gripping the hilt. He'd been worried about facing three of them. One wasn't scary.

He thought he was, though; strutting and growling like a tomcat gearing up for a fight. "Don't think I don't know what you were doing to Kurumu back there!"

"What, you mean ignoring her while she flicked pencil erasers at me?" Joseph waved it off. "Sorry if I didn't give her what she wanted, but I'm not exactly good with girls."

"You were stringing her along!" The thug jabbed him in the chest, growling.

Joseph swatted the offending hand away. "Actually I wasn't, unless crouching over your desk and praying for deliverance is called 'stringing someone along' here. Back off. I'm not looking for a fight."

He leered in his face. "Why not? You ssscared?"

Joseph coughed and shoved him back, fanning the air in front of his face. "Point that hot air somewhere else. Ye gods, you've got a great career as a weed exterminator ahead of you."

Several people in the gathering crowd choked back a laugh. Someone else didn't bother muffling it. Joseph glanced up, noting familiar silver-striped hair. _Oh, him_. He went back to eyeing his opponent.

The thug finished looking around to see who had laughed and turned back to Joseph. "You think you're _funny_, American?"

"I don't know. My sisters never laugh," he answered, straight-faced. "I just don't think you're that scary."

The thug stared for a moment. Then his mouth gaped startlingly wide, he snarled like a teed-off alligator, and lunged. Joseph wheeled easily to the side, avoiding the blow by a good two feet. He dropped to the fighter's crouch, ready for just about anything.

In all his lessons with his father, Breagan had always insisted that Joseph learn to read his opponents, to guess at their next moves. Joseph had done his best, but he failed so often that he had begun to suspect he was a dunce. Only now, he realized that he was actually good at it: it was just that trying to read Breagan's moves was like trying to read the _Iliad_ translated into Runic, upside-down and backwards. In contrast, this thug was like the funny papers. There was no mystery, nothing to wonder at—just the punchline.

And in this case, the punchline was that there were no punches, at least none that connected. Joseph whirled, ducked and dodged, a foot away from every telegraphed blow, and wondering if it could actually be called a fight when no blows were exchanged. He also wondered how long it would be before the excited yelps and cheers from the crowd drew someone in authority.

He dropped under a wild haymaker, rolled, and came up again, balancing on the balls of his feet. There wasn't even the temptation to draw _Tellemaera_; using an enchanted blade on someone this pathetic would be like using a sledgehammer on an ant. He did find himself wondering what he could do with a bo staff or a bokken...but didn't dwell on it. He whirled away from another clawing blow, and finally gave in and lightly slapped the thug on the back of the head.

The thug roared, losing control of his glamour—if it was a glamour—and revealing himself as a remarkably ugly lizard-like humanoid. _Oh, joy. A Reptoid_. Joseph didn't slow down, having known all along that he was facing a monster. "Well," he quipped, ducking under a swipe, "I guess that explains the lizard breath."

"RRRAAAHH! I'LL KILL YOU!" The thug wasn't joking. Just one blow from those huge, long-clawed hands would deal serious injury, and could easily tear someone apart.

Joseph's eyes narrowed as he slipped entirely into combat mode. _No more playing around. This guy could really hurt someone. I need to find a way to stop him before there's collateral damage_. He noticed a single opening—one gap in the pattern, and took it. The Reptoid's claws hissed by his face. He seized its arm and twisted, up and over, slamming it to the ground with all the force he possessed to knock the wind out of it. It worked.

Joseph stood over it, breathing deeply, watching to make sure it didn't come up again. That was when he noticed how quiet it had become. He looked up to see a student in a black uniform watching them, having parted the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea. The Reptoid saw the newcomer and whimpered, quickly shriveling back into human form.

"Oh, no," he whimpered.

The green-haired, slant-eyed boy smiled coldly. "You really seem to have trouble remembering the rules, don't you?"

The Reptoid rolled over, pointing at Joseph. "H-he started it!"

Joseph snorted. "Of course I started it: when I dropped my trunk on you louts earlier, after I caught you picking on a little girl. That's what this was actually about, wasn't it? You're mad that I stopped you." He nodded to the black-clad student, recognizing him as the same one who'd gone with him to retrieve his trunk earlier. "Hello again, Takata."

"No one's going to believe _you!_" The Reptoid snarled. "Think you're so smart, with your weird eyes and fancy moves!"

Takata returned Joseph's nod. "Fancy moves?"

"He's also annoyed that I wouldn't let him land a punch." Joseph glanced over at the other students, who were flattened against the wall and watching with wide eyes. "You can ask them; I'm pretty sure I heard someone taking bets on how long I'd last during the scuffle, before his claws came out."

"He's right, Takata."

Joseph stifled a groan as Kurumu appeared, bouncing every inch of her anatomy, her eyes wide and fluttering. "It was the Lizardman who started it. Joseph only attacked when he revealed his monster form."

"Did you?" Takata turned his eyes back on Joseph, who nodded.

"Yes. He was charging and swinging his hands around so wildly I was afraid he would really hurt one of the others. I used a wrestling move my mom taught me to knock the wind out of him." He met the student's eyes. The kid was unsettling, but an angry Breagan beat him hands-down. Or a battle-eager Breagan, who looked almost the same, just more excited. "That and a...ornery swat to the back of the head were the only times of contact."

Takata smiled thinly. "You're an honest one. You do know you could have left out the swat to the back of the head? I wasn't here to see that."

Joseph snorted. "If you'd ever faced my mom after you told a lie or hid an important detail, you'd realize how crazy that sounded. Dad is not the scariest member of my family."

There was silence for a moment as the two regarded each other. Then Takata nodded slowly. "All right," he said at last. "Don't understand that, but I imagine you'll tell me later." He turned his glare on the Reptoid. "You, on the other hand, aren't getting off so easy. Regardless of who started the fight, you were the one who revealed your monster form." His hand snaked out, shockingly fast, and snagged the thug as he tried to dash away. "You're coming with me."

He nodded to Joseph, the Reptoid squeaking and whimpering in his grasp, and headed off down the hall. Stunned silence followed in his wake. Joseph glanced around at the other students, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. _I wonder if I've just revealed myself as Dragonborn_, he thought, trying to find some humor in the situation.

"Oh, wowww!"

He jerked back, half-strangled as Kurumu hurled her arms around his neck and squeezed. "You're so _brave!_ That was one of the _security team_, and you stared him down! You're _amazing!_"

"Gurk!" He scrambled to pry her arms off his neck. "I'm also—selfishly addicted—to breathing! Loosen a little, please!"

She moved downward, now threatening to break his ribs. He was mildly astounded that he didn't need the cold-water charm, but the imminent threat of bodily harm seemed to be its own deterrent to hormones.

"Kurumu..."

He glanced to the side to see Moka standing there, her hands on her hips. "What did I say about leaving him alone?"

She pouted again, squeezing him a little closer. _Now _he noticed what was shoving against him. He began looking around, trying to find a window, a drainpipe, or...just something he could climb up once she loosened her grasp enough for him to get away. "Oh...fine." She actually let him go. Joseph had never been more grateful for his natural agility; otherwise, scrambling backward would have knocked him tail-over-teakettle into a goofy-looking heap.

Kurumu eyed him with considerably more interest than he wanted. "Funny...you didn't _feel_..." Her voice trailed off, but he could guess what she'd felt: a trained swordsman's muscles, which were only concealed by the glamour, not removed. He watched her cautiously, ready to bolt if she came after him again.

"What happened, Joseph?"

He looked up and tried not to melt with relief. Her illusionary maxi skirt swishing around her legs and _Lorien _clacking softly on the tiles, Clarice approached, her unusual garb and weirdly emotionless face making her look almost like...he couldn't decide exactly what she looked like, though the priestess of some alien religion came pretty close.

"One of the thugs from earlier," he answered. "He tried to pick a fight with me. It didn't quite...turn out the way he wanted."

"If that was who we saw being hauled off by Takata, it certainly didn't." This was a girl walking behind Clarice. Joseph noticed the temperature starting to drop and grimaced. Clarice could ignore wild thermostat fluctuations; he could not.

"Yeah, that was him." Joseph nodded to the other girl, hoping she wasn't as grabby as Kurumu. He frowned at Clarice's expression. "Um...math class?"

"You've seen that before?" The other girl glanced at Clarice. "Yes, we just came out of math. Do you know what happened?"

"I haven't seen it happen, but she mentioned something about this. Kind of a...reason lock, I'd call it. Don't know how to snap her out, though."

Clarice looked dispassionately over the other students. Suddenly, her eyes cleared, focused—and sharpened into a pair of laser beams. Startled, Joseph followed her gaze.

Right to Kurumu.

* * *

**Poster's Note: Yes, this is taking place at the same time as my story 'Behind Blue Eyes'. The plots will intersect every now and then, but for the most part, they'll stay in their own stories. As always, please review and keep it appropriate.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Poster's Note: Pictures of Joseph and Clarice are now available for viewing on deviantart: philowenaster .deviantart .com (Take out the spaces) **

**Chapter Three**

_Yokai Academy_

"Uh..." Joseph looked from his cousin to the grabby kid of earlier. "Clarice?"

She took a deep breath, her entire frame rigid, her hand tightening around _Lorien_. "I'm still under control."

"Good?" He hadn't seen her like this, except for—his eyes widened. _Oh, crap_. Except for that time in Furumiya's car, when the Manitatsukarera had explained to them what their classmates would be, and had mentioned incubi and—_a succubus_. A number of things clicked into place, and a Sceath word—fortunately untranslatable—bubbled to his lips. Force of habit made him clamp back on it, since he had seen what his mom did to his dad when he said it. _This is bad_. "Clarice!"

Kurumu was starting to realize that she might be in trouble. Or maybe she could sense her angelic opposite, the way Clarice could effortlessly peg her. Either way, her eyes widened, and she shrank back. "Uhhh...Mizore? W-who's your friend?"

Joseph put his hand on Clarice's shoulder. "Calm down, cuz. She hasn't actually done anything."

"Neither did Saizo." Clarice didn't move. "And he's still going to be seeing funny for the next two weeks."

Mizore smirked. "She jabbed him right in the eye while we were leaving class, after he tried to feel up her skirt."

"Heehee!" A familiar voice giggled excitedly. "I bet you did!"

Clarice turned, relaxing. "Hello again, Yukari."

Yukari came bounding up, hauling the same human kid Joseph had noticed earlier. "Hello! Hey, you're both here! Tsukune, these are the ones I told you about earlier!"

The other boy looked embarrassed and interested at the same time. "Uh...hey." A flicker of recognition entered his eyes as he looked at Joseph. "Hey, I saw you in class earlier."

Joseph grinned and flicked his ear. "I think I might be hard to miss. I saw you, as well."

Clarice looked at Tsukune and gasped, just a quick, sharp sound. She'd felt it, too. Joseph stepped up beside her and bumped her shoulder. "Keep it under control," he breathed as softly as he could. She gave him a wry glance, then looked back at Yukari.

"What all were you telling your friend?"

Joseph heard a quick scuffing noise and glanced over his shoulder to see Kurumu scooting away as fast as her bouncing little feet could take her, sending nervous glances at Clarice the whole way down. _That answers that question. She knows Clarice is a danger to her. _

Tsukune rubbed his head. "Something about fairy calls and trunks named Mjolnir. And apparently you dealt with those lizard-jerks." He chuckled. "Their ringleader is in trouble with the security committee again, we passed Takata hauling him off."

"Yeah." Joseph laughed. "Sounds like the story got a little garbled between the doing and the telling. We found them shoving Yukari around earlier, so Clarice used a charm called _The Faerie Call _to get her out of there, and I threw my traveling truck at them. It's...well, my sisters were the ones to do the packing for me after they found out I was transferring here, and they practically stripped my room to the drywall. There's a charm on the trunk so that I can move it no matter how heavy it is, so throwing it wasn't that hard for me."

Clarice laughed. "He bulls-eyed them. And they couldn't get up, which is what made them the angriest. All three of them under that thing, and they couldn't move it."

Tsukune's eyebrows arched. "Really? Okay, that is impressive."

Clarice glanced at a nearby clock. "Oh, I was going to grab a book from my suitcase; Mizore wanted to look at it. I'd better run if we want to have any time." She darted off, waving. "See you, Joseph, Yukari! Nice to meet you, Tsukune!"

They watched her dash off. Tsukune blinked. "Your cousin?"

"Yeah." Joseph looked around, noting that Kurumu had vanished. "Um...your girlfriend, Moka. Are she and Kurumu friends?"

Yukari giggled, and Tsukune laughed. "I'm friends with Kurumu. We're in the newspaper club together. Why?"

"Clarice." Joseph grew serious. "My cousin is...gah, it's complicated. But the long and short of it is, she and Kurumu are like—like fire and ice. And that's a pretty weak comparison." He rubbed his head and sighed. "All right, I'm going to flat-out blab. Clarice is something called a Demon-Seeming. Her other form looks like a ten-foot-tall demoness, probably complete with razor-sharp claws and shark teeth. But she only _looks _like a demon. She's on the side of Light, which makes her angelic. And...her dad, who is _also _Demon-Seeming, was sired by an incubus. Clarice is the angelic opposite of incubi and succubi, and..."

Tsukune's eyes widened, understanding. "Yikes. So _that's _what was going on when Yukari hauled me up here."

"Yeah." Joseph grimaced. "Not that I, um...well...Kurumu kind of scares the snot out of me, so I'm probably going to run if I see her coming, but still. My dad is best friends with Clarice's dad, and even _he's _scared when the Demon-Seeming side comes out. I just thought it was best if she knew to keep under the radar if Clarice is around."

Tsukune nodded. "I'll let her know." He looked Joseph over. "Are you going anywhere?"

Joseph shrugged. "Just out. I need to stretch my legs; I'm not used to sitting so much. And then I might try to find the gym. Dad's not here for me to spar with, but I might at least set up a routine to keep from getting rusty."

"Spar?"

Joseph turned to see Kazuken and his twin watching him with interest. It was the twin speaking. "Like, in karate or Tae Kwon Do or something?"

"No, swordfighting. Dad's..." He decided not to brag at the moment about his father being the best swordsman in two worlds, and settled on gross understatement. "Really good with a blade."

"Might come by and watch sometime." That was Kazuken, his expression calculating and unreadable. Joseph held his gaze.

"I don't mind an audience," he answered calmly. Then he turned. "I'm going to go out and run for a while. With any luck, I won't be able to get completely lost."

* * *

_Run_. A smile touched the corners of Clarice's mouth as she came out of the girl's dorm to see Joseph flying through the trees, barely seeming to touch the ground. _If that's what he wants to call it_. She watched as he jumped, hurtling from tree-trunk to tree-trunk like the ninjas in a kung-fu flick, before coming down lightly on his feet again and continuing at the same speed.

_I shouldn't be hard on the girls admiring him. He's impressive enough as a lanky teenager. _She tried juxtaposing the muscular young Elf she'd seen receiving his sword on the running figure and quickly fanned herself, blushing. _Stop that, Clarice; he's your _cousin. She turned away, smiling a little. _But I do want to see what he's capable of with his sword. _

That was when...it wasn't a feeling, or even a sensation. It was a compulsion; something deep, primal, terrible. Her inner powers roiled up, struggling against the calm, warding block of her armband. _Succubus! _

It took her less than three seconds to find the source: that bubbly, blue-haired little—she discarded several alliterations, descriptive as they might be, and settled on _hussy_. She was crouching behind a large rock, watching Joseph run. A cold rage settled. Clarice willed herself into a deadly calm, then approached.

"You." All the frost, power, and fury she felt came out packed into that one word.

The succubus jumped guiltily and turned, gasping as she saw her. "Uh! C-can I...help you?"

Clarice glared down at her, her armband the only thing that kept her powers at bay. "Why are you following my cousin?"

Kurumu's eyes widened. "Uhh..."

Clarice stepped forward, one menacing step. A shadowy aura billowed around her, her armband glowing like a ring of moonlight in the gloom. "I know what you are." Another step. "I know what your kind _does_." A third step, and now she was almost on top of the cowering girl. Her eyes shone with a terrifying blue light.

The girl shrank back into a quivering jelly, shaking so hard it was almost possible to forget what she was. She was outmatched, in danger—and she knew it. Seeing this calmed even the angelic fury—a little, anyway. "W-w-what are you going to do?"

Clarice willed herself back to a calmer state, dispersing some of the black aura. "Nothing—for now. I do not attack without provocation. But this is a warning. You stay away from Joseph. Leave my cousin alone—because the next time I catch you after him, I will fight." She leveled one more blistering glare, then turned and strode away.

* * *

Kurumu was still in place ten minutes later, when Tsukune and Kazuken's twin finally found her. Joseph slowed to a halt, stretching his nicely-warmed muscles, and watching from a distance. He tended to lose track of what happened around him when he ran; but he thought he had seen Clarice, looking quite ominous indeed, looming over the other girl like a Balrog over Gondolin. There was no way he was going near them—especially not if Kurumu had been watching him run, the very idea made him break out in a cold sweat—but he could easily hear what was going on.

"Hey—Kurumu?" Tsukune slowed, puzzled. "Are you all right?"

"What happened?" The twin knelt down beside her. "You're shaking all over!"

"Th-th-the new girl," she finally managed. Her teeth were chattering. "It-it-it was her."

The boys exchanged looks. Joseph could imagine what had happened, and couldn't decide if he felt sorry for her, or relieved.

"New girl—you mean Clarice?" Tsukune put his hand on Kurumu's arm, trying to help her up. It was like trying to pile Jello into a tower.

Kurumu nodded.

"Looks like we're a bit late, then." The twin sounded shamefaced. "Joseph asked us to warn you about her; apparently she's something that...is the opposite of succubi."

"I know." Kurumu's voice was tiny. "I could f-f-feel it."

"What did she do to you?" Tsukune was pretty alarmed by now. "I haven't seen you this shaken since you attacked Moka. Are you hurt?"

"Sh-she looked at me!" Kurumu wailed, breaking her stupor, and hurling her arms around Tsukune. This had the opposite effect of what she wanted, since his balance wasn't great and she pulled him over, crashing into the other boy, but she didn't break her hold.

"Hey, hey now," the twin joked, trying to pull his legs out from under them, "if you're going to do that, at least get a room!"

"Not funny, Kyle," Tsukune griped, trying to lever himself up.

"Just trying to lighten the mood a little."

It needed lightening. Kurumu was no longer in a quivering heap. Now she was in full-on hysterics, shrieking at a pitch Joseph figured they could hear on the other side of the barrier, and clutching Tsukune so tightly she looked like she would have to be pried off with a crowbar. Joseph wondered if he should go over and help. But, A: he had never been good around girls, especially ones in a high emotional pitch, and B: he had a sneaking suspicion that he was what Clarice had been terrorizing Kurumu over. Either way, his presence would probably make things worse. He decided to do the next best thing and find a teacher.

And...thinking back over his teachers of the day, he figured he knew which of them would be the best choice.

* * *

Clarice looked up from poring over her leather-bound _Book of Beings _with Mizore as Joseph, his shirt drenched from his run, walked past them. "Uh, Miss Nekonome?"

The cheerful teacher looked up. "Yes, Joseph?"

He jerked his thumb toward the door. "Thought you should know: Kurumu's having hysterics outside, about halfway between that woody tangle and the main school building. She's got Tsukune and...I think they said his name was Kyle with her, but I don't think they know what to do for hysterics."

"Oh my!" Miss Nekonome jumped up. "What happened? Do you know?"

He shook his head. "No, I was running until a minute ago. And I, uh, would kind of rather avoid Kurumu. I get...nervous around girls like that."

"Is there a reason?" She looked at him curiously.

"Yeah." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the still-vivid memory. "Let's just say... childhood trauma. I was thirteen at the time, but still. It made its mark."

"All right. I'll go and see what I can do." Miss Nekonome hurried out.

Joseph waited until she was gone, then turned to Clarice. "And what, pray tell," he said, crossing his arms, "did you _do? _I don't mind you telling the other girls to keep away from me, but—my gosh, you turned her into a pile of melting Jello out there!"

"I caught her spying on you while you were running." Clarice was not repentant. "I admit, nearly losing control was taking it a little far...but hopefully, seeing what might have happened will get through to that girl. And I did not even yell."

"I was never afraid when Dad yelled." Joseph loomed over them—or tried to; Mizore was too interested in the _Book of Beings _to pay attention, and Clarice wasn't afraid of him. "It was when he got quiet that I feared for my life."

Mizore giggled, completely unaware of him. "Clarice, this book is incomplete. There's nothing it in at all about half the creatures here!"

"I know." Clarice looked down at it. "That is actually why I brought it. I've been training for a few years now as a Chronicler; I'll be adding races to the book while I'm here."

_Dismissed_. Joseph shook his head and sighed. _All right. I'm just going to go change my shirt so I don't stink up my next class. And seriously hope I don't run into Kurumu again for a couple of days._

Neither Clarice nor Mizore noticed as he walked out, both too engrossed in the book. Mizore fingered the thick, vellum-like pages. "You and Joseph; are your people in here?"

"Yep." Clarice flipped the pages back. "Here's the Demon-Seeming entry." She paused, looking down at the illustration of a huge, terrifying, blue-black creature. "It's new. As far as anyone knows, my father and I are the only Demon-Seeming out there. That picture is my dad in his other form."

"Ooh." Mizore traced the picture with her finger. She noticed a certain detail that had been left out and giggled again. "Does _that_..."

"No. I don't know why they drew him like that. Mom made him a special kilt that shows up when he changes." She paused. "Now the _first _time it happened...I don't know. He might have been."

"Do...you?" Mizore glanced up at her slyly.

"Absolutely _not_." Clarice swatted her over the head. "I have a tunic. It's not a very long tunic, but it covers me."

Mizore ducked, giggling. "All right, all right. What about Joseph's kind?"

Clarice sighed. "The Sceath. Oh yeah. They're in here; and my edition wasn't censored."

"Censored?" Mizore glanced at her curiously.

For answer, Clarice flipped through the book until she reached the appropriate entry. "This."

Mizore gasped, staring down at both the words and the illustrations. A few of the latter blurred away as she looked; neither girl objected. She read silently for a few moments, swallowing hard a number of times. "That's...that's scary."

"Believe me. I know." Clarice stared down at a portrait of a Sceath man, glaring over his shoulder out at them. It was possible to see a resemblance to Breagan or Joseph in the lines of the face, but nowhere else. "It's a good thing Joseph's mom had never found this entry before she met Breagan. Most Sceath who come to the surface don't do so because they have good hearts. Usually, they've made the underground too hot to hold them." She hesitated. "When that happens, they...they're usually hunted down. By a Judge(**1**)."

Mizore shivered. "Don't, please; I'm terrified of Judges."

"Those who don't cause trouble have no reason to be afraid of them." Clarice decided she'd had enough of those unpleasant illustrations and flipped ahead to a more attractive entry. "I have several aunts who are Judges...and I might become one myself, once I turn eighteen."

"You don't know?" Mizore shot her an odd look.

Clarice shook her head, flipping ahead a little more. "I'd be fairly confident of becoming a Healer(**2**) if my staff was made of elder wood. As it is, I'm a birch; we tend to go either way." She paused, looking up. "Joseph's mom, Ange, is ambidextrous: she's a Healer _and _a Judge. So is her twin, Paige. They didn't know that at first."

"How did they...find out?" Mizore looked a little sick.

"Long story. Very long. Let's just say it was after that that Breagan and Ange knew how much they meant to each other." She found the entry she wanted. "Ah, here we are." She turned it slightly so that Mizore could see it.

"Oh! That's—that's _us!_" She bent over the pages, eagerness making several waves of cold gust off her. "Oh—oh, I _know _her! I know the one in the picture!"

"Really?" Clarice looked at it, admiring the graceful, silver-haired woman. "Who is it?"

"Her name is Akiko! She's one of you—a Manitatsukarera. She married into them; they formed a treaty with us because of it. I used to be good friends with her daughter, Suzuto." She sighed. "We lost track of each other once I came here. The Headmaster wouldn't let her join."

Clarice gasped, jerking upright. "I've heard that name before! Akiko—yes! She was the one who got us our applications—who got Joseph and I approved to transfer in!"

They looked at each other, both wondering how, and why, exactly, this had been done.

* * *

Joseph groaned in relief, stretching his stiff limbs in the dorm room. It had been a long day, and he was going to have trouble taking it all in. _I was still in America this morning_, he thought ruefully. _And now...now I'm a Japanese schoolboy. Sort of_. Night had fallen outside, bringing true darkness as opposed to the sullen, overcast orange of earlier. He looked around the room. No one had turned on the light, so it was nearly pitch-black...something which didn't bother a creature meant for lightless caverns.

_It's stuffy in here. _Joseph ghosted over to the window and pulled it open, letting in a breeze. _Huh. There isn't a screen. _He leaned out, looking around, then up. _There's a walkway up there. I wonder..._

Glancing inside and around assured him that no one else was moving. Stealthily, he pulled himself out of the window, making use of the dozens of handholds to climb up the roof. In a few seconds, he reached the walkway and hoisted himself over the railing. Then he looked up.

The clouds had drifted away, revealing a full moon floating in a sea of stars. He stared up, his lips parting in a contented smile. _It's been a while since I've been able to go out and stargaze. Maybe I'm across the sea; but there are dozens of old friends up there_. Easily, he picked out Orion, Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper, Leo, and his personal favorite, Pegasus. The moon was too bright for the Milky Way to be visible, but he could see the Pleiades cluster, and...

A grim voice interrupted his reverie. "What will happen when we go to the human world?"

He turned to see Kazuken behind him, also up on the roof. He wasn't looking at the sky; he was staring ahead, looking at something only he could see.

_I wonder if he's worried about standing out. I probably would be in his place. _"There are ways," he said, his voice low in keeping with the night.

Kazuken dropped into a fighter's crouch, whirling to face him. Evidently, his night vision wasn't quite as good as Joseph's; it took him several seconds to find him, standing against the stars. Joseph held his gaze calmly. "Ways for even the most monstrous of creatures to hide in plain sight." _As I should well know. _

Kazuken finally found him, and his weird eyes widened. "You're that transfer student, aren't you?"

"Yes." Joseph smiled. "And you're the grumpy one who was introduced before me."

"Then I shouldn't have to remind you of my name." Kazuken opened his hand, flashing claws.

Joseph reached back, carelessly rubbing his hand over _Tellemaera's _hilt. "I've seen claws much bigger than that. _Much _bigger." _And trust me, kiddo; you have no idea _how _much bigger_. "I'm not looking for a fight." _It didn't work earlier, but heck. At least people can't fault me if I'm _trying_. _

Kazuken's stance didn't change. "Then what _do _you want?" He was hands-down the most suspicious guy Joseph had ever met.

"Nothing," he answered honestly. "I just like the night. I don't mind the light, but..." He tipped his head backwards, enjoying the breeze on his face. "Sceath were meant for the darkness."

"Sceath." The surly kid seemed to be thinking something over. Then he stiffened. "You mean the dark elves?"

Joseph turned back to look at him, surprised. "You've heard of them? I didn't think anyone here would have."

"I've heard a few things." Now he was _really _looking to rumble. "Nothing good."

A laugh that wasn't as harsh as it might have been escaped Joseph's lips. "_That _doesn't surprise me. You should hear my dad's stories of his homeland sometime." _You might even be old enough—and mean enough—to hear them without __getting__ nightmares. _

Kazuken's crouch deepened, and he scowled. "All right. Enough small talk. What do you want?"

Joseph sighed, shaking his head. "Nothing. I already said that." He paused, then decided to be generous. "But if you need help with a glamour, I'll be happy to oblige."

_And I've suddenly had enough night_. He vaulted over the railing onto the slick shingles and crouched, spreading his weight evenly as he slid down them. It was fun—almost better than the time they had gone skiing. He came up to the open dormitory window, caught the edge of it, and swung himself in, landing easily and silently.

* * *

Morning came way too soon—at least in Clarice's opinion. She groaned and turned over. The jet lag hadn't hit until about three last night, and now she could barely keep her eyes open. _Oh, today's going to be fun. _

Showering next to Mizore helped. A _lot_. There was something about the sensation of standing naked in a storm of freezing rain that banished any and all desire to sleep. But, while she was awake, the cold water did nothing to quell the welling grouchiness that was probably going to sit on her until her next chance of sleep. She'd had lots of practice in the past, staying civil when she wanted to scream and run around ripping heads off..._but today will not be a good one to tick me off. _

She pulled on her glamoured skirt, making a mental note to ask Joseph to transfer the glamour to something she could move from one outfit to another, so she didn't have to keep wearing the same one all the time. It took her a few minutes to realize that several girls had gathered to watch her do so.

"Um...can I help you?"

"Your skirt." She didn't know the girl who spoke, staring at it covetously. "How did you get a full-length skirt?"

"It's not really full-length." She passed her hand through it, demonstrating. "I had my cousin put a glamour on it yesterday. I've been in the same class as Saizo, and I...figured I had better take some preventative action."

The other girls looked at each other. "You think he might do the same for us?"

Clarice could picture the girls trying to ask Joseph in a group, Joseph panicking, and the whole farce ending somewhere in the vicinity of the tallest tree on the property. "Let me ask him if he can replicate it. And if he can, get a clip or a brooch or a safety pin or something that he can tie the glamour to; that way, you can switch it to any skirt you want."

"Okay." The girls looked at each other, interested. One, a chipper girl with blonde hair in perky buns and not-inconsiderable assets, looked particularly intrigued. "You think he would? It's not quite so bad with Moka and Kurumu around, but a _lot _of the boys are perverts—and believe me, you notice when they're around."

"I have a _great _deal of sympathy." Clarice looked over at her staff and frowned, inspired. "Hmmm...you know, I don't quite have the oomph that my aunt Bodie does, but I _can _cut wards, and they do work. If you could get hold of some wooden medallions, I could make you some anti-stalker wards. At the very least, they will make you impossible to see clearly if someone is spying on you."

"Oooh." That was even more interesting to them than the glamours. "Yeah, we'll get those medallions, even if we have to _make _them."

* * *

On the whole, waking up at Yokai Academy wasn't all that different from waking up at home. Joseph cracked one eye, grunted, and turned over, pulling blankets and pillows over his head. Three seconds later, the entire world shattered as perhaps fifty-seven alarm clocks of varying types went off at the same time.

As wake-ups went, that was effective. Almost as effective as Breagan's method for rousing his morning-hating son, which was first to bang on the door and loudly announce that it was time to get up; then, if Joseph had not stirred in twenty minutes, to barge in, scoop his son out of bed, blankets and all, carry him to the top of the stairs, then unceremoniously unroll him and tumble him down into the kitchen, where Rachel and Melody, no matter how drowsy they had previously been, eagerly waited to laugh at the spectacle of their brother rolling downstairs in his boxers. Joseph had the ability to sleep through an earthquake. He did not have the ability to sleep through _that_.

Nor, he thought ruefully as he picked himself up off the floor, could he sleep through _this _cacophony. All around him, the alarms were being silenced, some with a relative gentleness, some with a muffled curse, some with a crash that made him wonder how often the clocks had to be replaced. He sighed, decided not to wait for the equivalent of Breagan rousing the late sleepers, and dug into his trunk, looking for his uniforms.

He came out of the dorm building twenty minutes later, more or less neatly dressed, and vainly trying to comb his hair out with his fingers. _I look like a friggin' bush. _It was the one problem with his glamoured hair; his real hair just tangled. His glamoured hair stood up every which way. _And I don't have my brush. They pack my whole cotton-pickin' room and they forgot the hairbrush. I guess I should feel lucky they didn't forget my _toothbrush_, too. _

His hand snaked up to cover an enormous yawn. _Jet-lag, here I come. I hope they have coffee here_. He wasn't quite addicted to the stuff, but both he and Breagan had developed a taste and a need for it in the morning; and the stronger and blacker it was, the better. His hand fumbled up for _Tellemaera's _hilt, wondering as he did if the sword's power might wake him up a little.

"Hi."

His eyes snapped open as he realized he'd just walked into someone. The stranger grinned at him, amused.

"Were you even awake?"

"Not really." His hand found the hilt, but the surge of power just made him feel confident, not awake. "Where's the nearest coffeepot? I...do have a tendency to walk into walls before I've had some."

The other kid laughed, reaching up to shift his headband. "Did you think I was a wall?"

"I didn't even see you. I generally don't see the walls, either." Joseph covered his mouth and yawned again. "Where's the nearest coffeepot?"

"Try the cafeteria." The student grinned at him. "Might get to see you around later. I'm Gin. What's your name?"

"Joseph. Nice to meet you." He rubbed his eyes. "Try to remind me to get your name again later, when I'm actually awake."

Gin laughed heartily, grinning down at him. "I'll do that. See you later, Joseph." He looked into the distance, and his grin turned salacious. "Ooh, there are some good ones this morning..." He moved away.

Joseph didn't know what he was going after, and he didn't care. He stumbled off, hoping he could find the cafeteria, and really hoping they would have coffee.

* * *

Clarice found him fifteen minutes later, looking down at a cup of black liquid with an expression of distaste. "Morning," she greeted. "Something wrong?"

"Japanese do not have a coffee culture," he answered. "I've had stronger brews from the bottom of the instant coffee tin at home. This is vaguely flavored _water_." He looked around, found a sink, and emptied the cup out. "I'm going to find the kitchen crew and ask if I can make my own. I'm awake at the moment, but this jet lag is going to kill me later on."

"If you can get some decent coffee, let me have some," Clarice suggested. "I need something to get me a little nicer. I'm in kind of a...dangerous mood."

Joseph paused in the act of walking off. "Dangerous as in?"

"Dangerous as in slugging anyone who looks at me wrong. I walloped someone on the way in from the girl's dorm." She sighed, rubbing her hair. "Admittedly, he was a creep, but I don't really think he deserved a black eye first thing in the morning. Not like _some _of the guys here..."

"Who'd you clobber, and why?"

"Some black-haired rake-in-training with a headband. He, um, complimented my...chest. And insulted it in the same breath, I think, but by then I was already winding up, so it didn't matter." Clarice sighed. "I laid him out flat. Some of the other girls cheered, but...that sort of snapped me out of crab mode. At least for a little while."

"Good thing I wasn't there to hear that. He wouldn't have just had to worry about you." Joseph scowled. "Maybe I'm scared of girls, but that doesn't mean I'll let someone disrespect one in my hearing. Especially not my cousin."

"Don't kill anybody on my account." Clarice smirked, then sobered. "That is, unless I ask you to with good reason."

"I won't." Joseph grinned slyly. "But Dad's not the only one who taught me how to fight. Mom and Aunt Paige know some really awesome wrestling moves—and they taught all of us. And I'm a _lot _stronger than I look, so I can pack some serious oomph into those moves."

"I bet." Clarice covered a yawn. "Weren't you going to try and make some good coffee? And I like a lot of cream and sugar in mine."

"Yeah." Joseph rubbed his hair. "You know, I almost can't believe I didn't dig a coffeemaker out of my trunk, the girls packed just about everything else. If it turns out we're allowed presents from outside, I'm going to ask about having them send me a french press and some coffee grounds."

"Sounds good." Clarice found a spot to sit. "I'll wait for you here. Don't panic if there are some other girls with me when you get back; they're just interested in skirt glamours like mine."

"Once I wake up, that won't be a problem." Joseph walked toward the kitchen.

As he returned some ten minutes later, bearing two large cups of hot, steaming brew almost strong enough to float the spoons, he noticed Kyle, Kazuken, and Tsukune talking.

"Did you see that shiner?" Tsukune sounded stunned. "I've never seen anyone catch him that hard before."

Kyle snorted with laughter. "Despite numerous efforts on the part of nearly every girl on campus...I've got to admit, though, that was an impressive one. Whoever belted him has quite the swing—and is faster than greased lighting, as well."

"Faster than greased lighting?" Kazuken glanced up and noticed Joseph. His eyes narrowed. Joseph, mellowed somewhat by several sips of his blacker-than-doomsday coffee, just nodded back. "I can name at least one who fits that description."

"And you'd be wrong," Joseph answered. "It wasn't me. Clarice is not a morning person. Take note."

"Clarice?" The other two turned to him, then Tsukune's eyes lit with recognition. "Oh, your cousin. That was _her?_"

"And I think she feels a little guilty over it, though if what she said was true, she has no cause to be."

Kyle waved the concern away. "Gin always deserves it. If he didn't do anything at that moment, he did something a few minutes ago. She doesn't have to feel bad."

"I will pass that on to her." He caught a glimpse of the student he'd walked into earlier and raised an eyebrow. The black eye was indeed impressive, being quite large, several shades of purple and green, and swelling his eye shut. "Wow, she really did pop him a good one." He looked down at the cups he held. "Ah, I'd better get back over to Clarice before she falls asleep or this gets cold, because I don't know which would be worse." He nodded to the group. "I'll catch you guys later."

* * *

There were several other girls sitting and chatting with Clarice, all of them quite pretty, but also demurely dressed—at least, as demurely as their uniforms allowed. He nodded to them politely as he came up, holding the second cup out to Clarice.

"Here you go," he said. "I don't know how much cream and sugar you like, so I was generous."

"I like it pretty close to syrup," she admitted, taking the cup and sipping. "Wow, you really do drink it strong. This is fine."

Joseph sat down across from her. "You said there was something they wanted?"

"Skirt glamours, like mine." Clarice indicated her long skirt. "There are a lot of, well..."

"Perverts," the generously-proportioned blonde said bluntly. "Gin and Saizo are the worst, but most of the boys are awful. And these short skirts..."

"Are enablers. I understand." If it wasn't for his cold-water charm, Joseph would probably be in trouble, surrounded by acres of long, attractive female legs. As it was, it only took a few shocks from it to keep his eyes at face height. He frowned, considering what he would need to do to create a number of glamours, and fiddled with his earring as he did. "If I can bind the glamours to something special to each of you, or something that has some significance, that...energy on the item will be enough to fuel something that small. But in order to work the charm and create the illusion, I'm going to have to touch your skirts. Just the hem; and you might want to tell me how _long _you want the glamour to be, or you'll all be walking around looking like you're going to trip on your hems at any minute."

"Oh." They exchanged looks. "So you can't do it right here?"

Joseph stared at them. "You are asking me to touch a girl's skirt way too close to...um...all the way up in _public_? No thank you. It'll feel weird enough doing it in a closed room."

"That makes sense." The girls nodded, reluctantly, but understanding. "All right; we'll gather some special things and be ready for you after the first class."

Joseph nodded. "I'll be ready for you then."

* * *

After breakfast, the campus milled with students gathering in knots to chat, challenge each other, or just congregate. Joseph's agorophobia started to kick in, so he found himself a lonely-looking tree, and challenged himself to see how far he could jump up it before he had to climb. Clarice, on the other hand, gathered in a cheerful group with the girls who had asked her about skirt glamours earlier.

Joseph stretched out on a sturdy branch and gazed into the distance, wondering just what the day would bring. He didn't want all that much: decent grades, Kurumu to leave him alone, no fights with the Reptoid or his crew...not much at all.

"Papers!"

His eyes focused again and he looked down. A number of familiar faces had appeared, carrying stacks of newspapers. The other students perked up, turning toward them. Joseph, still stretched out on his branch like a smallish panther, watched idly. He smiled when he saw Kurumu start toward Clarice's group, then veer wildly to the side as she noticed the Demon-Seeming eyeing her coldly. Gin also noticed Clarice, and steered clear himself. Yukari, on the other hand, went straight to her, making Joseph wonder if _The Faerie Call _left echoes on the mind even after its aim had been accomplished.

_Might be the reason we're only supposed to use it in emergencies,_ he mused. He decided he didn't really want one of the papers, and remained where he was. He could find out what was in them just by listening.

There was, he soon discovered, a flaw in his plan: the loudest voices below were not discussing the papers, but the girls who had passed them out, and the attributes thereof. He scowled, looked at the tree, and decided to try something he'd once heard described by a cousin who was one-fourth Dryad, one-fourth woodland Seelie, and one-half completely unknown. _Not sure it will work for a Sceath, but I've done stuff like this before..._

He flattened his hand on the branch and closed his eyes, drawing into himself the knowledge of the tree and what it had been when alive. It was easier than he'd thought; either the tree hadn't been dead for very long, or his magic was stronger than he'd imagined. And...yes. _Hehe_. This kind of tree produced lots of small, hard seeds. Perfect for ammunition. He concentrated a little harder, reminding it of how it felt when the sun beamed down on it, when its sap flowed freely, when it burst out in leaves and blossoms, when it produced fruit...

It shuddered beneath him, then, with a rush and a crackle..._Uh. That was considerably more enthusiastic than I had planned. __Or __expected._ Joseph looked around at the one completely living tree in a sea of dead ones, and blinked. _And to be frank, more than what I thought was _possible.

He'd only wanted to bring his branch to life long enough for it to produce a few handfuls of seeds, which he could then use to bomb those perverted little twits loudmouthing it up below him. He hadn't expected to bring the entire _tree _back to life. He also hadn't expected to...he lifted his head in amazement. The tree was _awake_, now. "Uh...wow."

"Oh, gosh."

He looked down to see Clarice under him, looking up at the rustling leaves. "How in heaven's name did you pull _this _off?"

"I have absolutely no idea. I was just...trying to do it to the branch for a few minutes." Joseph sat up. "I did _not _expect it to do this."

Clarice touched the tree and shook her head. "This is crazy. I...wow. Holy smokes, what you did was seriously powerful magic-wise, something I'd expect more from an oak than from a yew."

"So what did I do?" The tree rustled again, almost as if worried. He patted a nearby branch reassuringly.

"As far as I can tell, none of these trees are actually _real_. They're more like...decorations. Ideas. Props." Clarice stroked the one he was sitting in. "But you...oh, I see what you did now. Not that it makes it less impressive."

"So what, exactly, happened?" Joseph glared down at her. "Quit beating around the bush."

"Oh, hush. I'm not. The trees are..." She frowned, searching for the right word, "borrowed from the outside world. This pocket dimension sits on top of a wooded area, so all these trees are like...shadows. Dead twins of the real trees. What you did was pull the awareness of the real tree up into the twin. You started telling it it had been alive at one point, and reminding it of how that was. It believed you—then realized that it actually _was _alive."

"Okay." Joseph patted the branch again. It felt, oddly, like he was patting a large, unusual pet, and he had the impression that, if the tree had a tail, it would be wagging it furiously.

Clarice also patted the trunk. "I'd tell you to bind it so that the charm you used doesn't follow you through all the trees on the campus, but I don't think you'll need to. That's cool, that you woke the tree." She beckoned. "Better come on down, though. It'll be time for class in fifteen minutes."

"All right." He felt oddly reluctant to leave the tree, but he did understand that he needed to.

As he dropped down, he noticed the paper in Clarice's hand, with a blurry picture of something large and winged on the first page. "What's that?"

"This?" She looked down at it. "Oh. Yukari gave it to me; she and her friends make it. This story looks like something about a series of thefts on the campus. Kuchito says it's more like muggings than thefts, though; but she also said no one's really seen the thief."

"Who's Kuchito?"

"She's one of the girls who wants a skirt glamour; the blonde. I imagine that if it hadn't been for Moka and that Kurumu, she'd have had a real bad time here." Clarice shook her head. "She's having kind of a bad time anyway, so I hope you can do something for her."

"Well, I can't give her an anti-dazzle charm, but I _can_ at least put a glamour on her skirt." Joseph frowned. "Don't know how much more I can do than that."

"I'm going to be cutting some anti-stalker wards for them, once we get some wooden medallions." Clarice unobtrusively pulled her amethyst out of her shirt and tapped it against the paper. "I think I'd better read up on this...mugger, though. Find out what's going on." She grinned sheepishly at Joseph and shrugged. "Just in case."

* * *

The morning went by uneventfully. Sort of, anyway; Joseph found himself wondering if his cold-water charm was going to wear out in his math class. He also understood why Clarice had gone into reason lock so hard the previous day.

He was also aware of the number of looks and whispers cast his way by just about everyone he passed. _Word of the fight's got around, no doubt_. He wouldn't have minded that so much if most of the guys hadn't been watching him with a sort of...testing gleam in their eyes. _I may have to find my tree again once we've got some free minutes. They look like they don't believe the rumors—and they all want to prove they're meaner and more powerful than the Reptoid. By beating me_. He scowled, setting his shoulders. _I'm not doing it. I'm not getting pulled into their game. _

Admittedly, they probably also wondered why a group of girls had gone into a room with him and Clarice in tiny miniskirts, and come out thirty minutes later in more modest clothing. Two of them still had Victorian-style maxis, but by the third glamour he had more control, and he was able to offer a wider range of lengths. And all the girls had brought a small trinket special to them, which he was easily able to tie the glamours to.

There had been a bit of trouble when one girl tried to have him tie the glamour to a large stuffed animal; but fortunately, she understood when he explained that she would have to _wear _the item controlling the glamour, or at least pin it to her skirt, if she wanted the illusion to work. She also had a little gewgaw on her already that worked perfectly to hold it.

It had all gone pretty well, actually, though when Kuchito had received her swishy calf-length skirt, she had been a little...over-enthusiastic. She hadn't nearly strangled him, though, and she had understood—sort of, anyway—when Clarice quickly intervened. The revelation that Joseph was afraid of girls had been more puzzling to them than anything else, but at least none of them had thrown their arms around him again. And she hadn't explained in detail _why_ he was afraid of girls, which was also good.

Nobody needed to know that contact with a girl brought back vivid recollections of dozens of hands ripping clothing off a thirteen-year-old kid.

He hopped over an obstacle thrust into his path and continued down the hall, still musing. The boy he'd just passed stared after him, his face slack with astonishment.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Joseph stopped and looked over his shoulder. Instantly, he relaxed. It was Kyle. "Hey," he greeted.

Kyle fell into step beside him. "You on your way to the gym?"

"Yeah." Joseph brushed _Tellemaera's _hilt. "Whether I can get a sparring partner or not, I can at least work on my footwork and set up a target or two. Are you on your way there, too?"

"Yeah; I'm part of the karate club. You know karate?"

Joseph shook his head. "I know some moves for emergencies, but Dad was never a big believer in unarmed fighting—probably for good reason."

"Oh?" Kyle cocked his head.

"If you're going into battle against someone with an enchanted sword, you'd better either have one of your own, or be really good with magic." He paused. "Although Aunt Paige said none of the Sceath Below ever expected her to have a sidearm, either. I'm good with a blade, though." He paused, then decided not to rectify that statement. _Better with a blade now, anyway. I did keep Dad on the defensive for a little while. _

"Oh. Makes sense." Kyle glanced at him. "You going to join the kendo club, then?"

Joseph shrugged. "I don't know. I'll check it out, but I may have a more...western idea of what to do with a sword than them."

Kyle looked at him blankly. "What?"

"A sword is a weapon," Joseph said bluntly, twisting his shoulder to avoid hanging up on something that had bumped him. "It has other purposes, yes, and it means more than bloodshed, but it's a weapon. I am training with a sword for one reason: to defend myself, my family, my friends, and any other innocents from the various breeds of creep that may threaten them. I am learning to _fight_. And, if necessary, to kill. I'm not meditating with a sword, lifting my mind to higher planes, or any of that other...well, Dad calls it garbage. I am learning to be a butt-whipper with a blade."

Kyle glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Whoo, that guy looks sorry now. He heard everything you said."

Joseph looked back, and yes, there was someone standing there with a rather sick look on his face. He shrugged and kept going. "So?"

"So he punched your shoulder—tried to, anyway, you kind of twisted away from it. And then you give him this ear-full about learning to fight and kill if necessary. I think _he _thinks trying to pick a fight with you is a bad idea."

Joseph sighed. "One look at my training sessions with Dad would tell them picking a fight with me is a bad idea—if only because I don't know what an easy win is. Or an easy _lose_, either, according to Mom. But then, she's the one who always has to patch us up."

"Patch you up?" Kyle cocked his head to the side. "How...intense do these training sessions get?"

"Pretty darn intense. Dad went easy on me about to the time I hit puberty; after that, he told me he wasn't going to be any easier on me than a real opponent would—and told me to just stop short of actually trying to kill him." He sighed. "I've given him a few bumps and bruises, but mostly by accident."

Kyle looked ahead gloomily. "Any training sessions I got with _my _family were with my mom—and that was when I was little, before she left. Otherwise, I had to go elsewhere. My dad's not...we're not close."

"Ow. Sorry to hear that." Joseph shivered a little.

Kyle shrugged. "It's not that bad. Gives me time to think." He looked over at him. "You said you've bumped and bruised your dad. What does he do to you?"

"Let's just say there's a reason the floor and walls of the gym are padded, and the display stands are made of balsa wood. And that I know exactly how it feels to be knocked unconscious."

"I know that feeling, too." Kyle laughed. "You should have seen me training to beat Moka after Kazuken challenged her."

Joseph frowned. "Okay, if your porcupine twin challenged Moka, why would _you _be the one training up?"

Kyle jerked, then looked around guiltily. "Uh...okay. I'm..." He looked sideways at Joseph. "Can you keep a secret?"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders. "If I had a dollar for every secret I've had to keep since I was seven years old, I'd be a friggin' millionaire by now. Is this an 'I left the marker in the pants that went through the washer' secret or an 'I punched a hole in the drywall' secret?"

"What?" Kyle stared, baffled.

"Is this a secret that does not matter so much if it gets out, or one I should guard with my life?"

"Probably the second." Kyle looked around again. "Is that a problem?"

"No, but I'm going to spill the beans about a couple of stunts my sisters and I have pulled to make room for it. There's only so many things a guy can keep quiet about."

Kyle laughed. "I'd probably like to hear some of these stories. Okay." He looked over his shoulder a third time. Joseph wished he would quit doing that, since his caution was making _him _jumpy. "Kazuken isn't actually my twin." He lifted a strange necklace Joseph hadn't paid attention to before: it looked like a Celtic cross that had been sliced down the middle—and looked oddly familiar.

"I think I've seen something like that before." Joseph frowned, calling to mind...Wait. He _had _seen it before—not that one, but the other half of it. On...Kazuken's neck. "Uhh..."

"He's my other half." Kyle's eyes were grim as he lowered the necklace. "We're the same person—just different sides."

"Okay, _that _is weird." Joseph shook his head. "And unexpected. The pair of you are totally different."

"That's the thing." Kyle sighed. "He's usually the...dormant side of me, and only comes out when Kurumu takes our seal off. But we had a big disagreement recently, and the seal...split."

Joseph rubbed his hair. "I'm having a little trouble wrapping my mind around this. I know about people having wildly differing forms. Clarice has another form that is...well, she described it as the Incredible Winged She-Hulk. But her personality doesn't actually change when it happens. And neither does her dad, Dranwyn's. They look scary enough to make Chuck Norris step back, but they're still in control of themselves. It's not a Jekyll and Hyde thing."

"Moka's the same as me. She's got another side, locked by her seal, and that other side is not something to mess with. And it's nowhere near as friendly."

"Moka, if I remember the name correctly, was pegged as a vampire by a guy who was telling us what to expect here. Her last name is Shuzen?"

"Akashiya, actually. That doesn't make her any weaker, though; Kazuken and I found that out the hard way." Kyle grimaced, rubbing his shoulder. "I trained like crazy, and she still whipped me."

"If there is one thing I have learned about girls, it is this: do not underestimate them." Joseph shook his head. "If they don't have a secret demigoddess side that they unleash when under extreme stress, or a twin who will stick by them at all times, they probably have some secret that will give them the upper hand in any circumstances."

"Yeah. And he challenged her other side."

Joseph looked at Kyle wryly. "Wouldn't make much sense for him to challenge her nice side. As she is now, she looks almost like she could use a few staff lessons from Clarice."

"Clarice fights with a staff?"

"Well enough that a fight never has to last more than a minute. I haven't sparred with her yet, but she apparently got Saizo in the eye with one good jab yesterday."

"You guys just got here yesterday, didn't you?"

"Yep."

Kyle grimaced. "Our split occurred the night before last. Just before you arrived."

"Since Kazuken was the other new kid when I walked in, I figured it couldn't have been a long while since it happened."

They entered the gym. A group of kids in white gis, wearing a rainbow of belt colors, milled together, some of them sparring, others working on forms or smacking dummies. Joseph noticed several racks of bokkens and bo staffs against the wall and headed for them. Almost at once, a tall kid with shaggy blond hair stepped in his path.

"Are you part of the karate club?"

Joseph shook his head. "No."

He folded his arms. "Why are you in here?"

"He's with me, Haiji." Kyle came up behind him. "This is Joseph."

Joseph bowed slightly at the waist. "I can come back later if you want, but all I really want is a target stand, a bokken, and a corner to practice in."

Haiji cocked his head to the side. "You in the kendo club?"

"He's not in any of them." Kyle was grinning. "He just got here yesterday. Says he's learned swordsmanship from his dad."

"I have. And I don't want to get out of practice. Dad kicks my butt hard enough even when I train every day. If I start slacking off, going home for the holidays is going to be a nightmare."

Haiji grinned. "All right. Just let us know which corner you've picked, so anyone who gets whacked knows it was their own fault." He looked at Joseph again, suddenly interested. "Say...didn't you get into a fight with someone yesterday? One of the Lizardmen?"

"Joy, so you've heard that too. Yeah, he tried to pick a fight with me. I just ducked, mostly—until his claws came out and it looked like there would be collateral damage." Joseph shrugged. "I wasn't looking for a fight. I'm still not."

"Nah, I'm not wanting to fight." Haiji waved his hand. "I heard that you were dodging his moves almost before he made them."

Joseph picked up a bokken and frowned. "Wow, these are way lighter than I'm used to. I don't know about before he made them, but yes, I didn't have any trouble keeping away from him." He started as he realized Haiji was now right at his shoulder.

"How did you do it?"

"Do—huh?" He blinked. "Do what?"

"Keep ahead of him like that. Are you...I don't know, telepathic? Could you read his mind?"

"Not his mind. His moves. My dad taught me how to read an enemy's motions to try and guess what he would do next." Joseph found a heavier bokken and held it out, testing the balance. "I did my best; but back home, all I could ever read for sure was the moment I'd just make a huge mistake and was about to get my tail handed to me on a silver platter. That guy was a lot easier to read than Dad ever is." He paused. _Probably because that guy is still a kid, and hasn't been in any real life-or-death battles with a skilled warrior. _

"Hmm." Haiji rubbed his chin. "Interesting."

Joseph looked at him warily. Haiji just grinned. "Grab a target and pick your corner of the gym. Kyle, you sparring with me today?"

Kyle had already picked up a gi. "Yep. Gonna last longer this time."

"Heh. You might need some lessons from the Artful Dodger here to do that." Haiji clapped Joseph on the shoulder and moved away. "I'll try not to throw you into his corner."

Joseph glanced back at them, shook his head, and picked out a dummy. Just to be on the safe side, he set it up in the corner of the gym farthest from the space opening around the two.

_Start with the footwork_. Joseph grinned a little as he pulled his earbuds out of his pocket. Ange had taught him a little trick to make his footwork easier: combination. Breagan did not know that Joseph knew some steps of Irish dance—indeed, Joseph privately thought he would die of embarrassment if his dad found out about the combinations. But it worked. It worked surprisingly well. He decided to face the others, just so he would be able to tell if one of them got too close, selected the song _Reel Around the Sun_ from his list, hit the play button, and stuck the MP3 back into his pocket.

The song started out slow, allowing him to stretch a little and get a feel for the sword. His first moves were slow and flowing, more about control than anything else. He went down on one knee, then the other, flexing his arms and his back, his legs and his neck. Then, as the rhythm sped up, he went to work.

His feet fell into familiar patterns, as did his arms as he worked through the sword positions, using them as a warmup before the music changed and he went into a simulated fight. He ducked and lunged, snapping the sword up to block imaginary blows, out to strike blows of his own, and then thrusting to take advantage of an opening. Every move his father had ever used came after him in his imagination, and he either countered or avoided—and all the while, whenever he stayed in one spot, his feet rapped against the floor in the quick dance moves Ange had taught him.

Finally, he dispatched his pretend opponent and turned to face the target dummy. That he had set up in the corner, so that his hardest blows could be aimed without fear that someone might get too close. And he lashed out without mercy. The target had no bones to be broken. It could not receive an concussion or die. _And if_, he thought, breathing hard as he struck, harder and harder, _I am ever in a fight, I cannot hold back—especially if I am fighting for my life! _

The wall suddenly vibrated as Kyle slammed against it, feet-first. He nodded at Joseph, who stared at him blankly, then threw himself back across the gym with an inarticulate battle-cry. Joseph ducked, as he would have had to in a real fight after a distraction like that, then went back to mangling the dummy.

At last, his arms burning, he lowered the sword and stopped. His music had stopped probably ten minutes ago, he was completely soaked, and several of the dents he'd put in that thing were...deeper than they should have been. He checked the bokken. Thankfully, it was still in one piece.

**_CRASH! _**Kyle hit the wall again, harder this time, and flopped bonelessly down onto the floor.

"Wow, that was—" Joseph stared down at him. "Kyle, are you all right?"

"You," Kyle mumbled, his eyes unfocused. "Get away from my food, my friend, my two emergency foods, and my son. In that order."

"What the heck?!" Joseph looked back at Haiji. "Should I..." _Be worried?_ _Call an ambulance? _

Kyle's eyes focused, and he sat up, shaking his head. "Dang it. Not again."

Joseph watched him warily. "Does this happen a lot?"

Haiji snorted. "What, get knocked out and blather nonsense? All the friggin' time. Fortunately, it never lasts more than a few seconds."

"Oh." Joseph eyed Kyle. "My sparring sessions with Dad usually end in me having a serious need for an ice pack, but I've never spouted nonsense. And I know because Rachel and Melody would not miss a moment to tease me about it, if I did."

"Who's Rachel and Melody?" Haiji noticed the dummy and his eyebrows arched. "Wow, you didn't spare that thing, did you?"

"Rachel and Melody are my sisters. Twins. And no, I don't hold back against something that can't die."

"I'm a little concerned about what you might do to something that _can _die." Haiji prodded one of the deepest dents. "Please tell me that wasn't from one blow."

"Probably it's from fifteen or so landing in the same spot. I've got pretty good aim." Joseph looked at the dent in question. "Yeah, I just struck there a lot."

"You whacked at the exact same place fifteen times?" Another kid came over to inspect the damage and whistled. "That's pretty good. Could you do it again?"

"Probably, but I won't." Joseph set the bokken down. "Certainly not with this one; I don't think it's quite meant for the kind of wear Dad and I put on our stuff. I've got to remember to grab one of mine from my trunk next time. Anyway, I wasn't just whaling on one place. That's a worse habit to get into than using a pattern. Which I was, because there's no way to really avoid that when you're practicing."

"Maybe you should join the kendo club." Haiji rubbed his hair. "Just to give them a refresher on what swordfighting means. They've got a little...lax lately."

Joseph snorted. "Which means I wouldn't be able to take it. You thought what I did to that dummy was intense, you should see what my dad does to _me _whenever we spar." He rubbed his head. "Dad's an actual warrior. He gets into life-or-death fights a _lot_. And he has a not-unreasonable expectation that I will probably do the same. He doesn't go easy on me, and he doesn't want me to go easy on him—because when I get into a fight, my enemy won't go easy, and neither should I."

"You know, that sounds like a really good idea." Haiji glanced at the other members of the club. "I'll talk to you some time about that; and maybe you can show us how to read someone's moves."

"Maybe." Joseph shrugged, then looked at his shirt and grimaced. "I better go shower and get changed, or I'm going to be nasty to be around. I'll see you guys later."

* * *

"I have to confess, this is the first time I've ever been to any sort of school." Clarice ran a hand through her hair self-consciously. "You girls are going to have to help me here; let me know if I start...breaking any unwritten rules or anything."

"We'll help you out." Kuchito put her arm around her shoulders. "Though...I guess if you keep away from Tsukune, you won't have much of a problem. He seems to be the one most of the girls go after."

"I wonder why?" Clarice glanced over at the newspaper club, visible through the windows of the building. _I seriously hope it's _not _because he's human. If that's the reason...yikes. _Nightmarish stories of evil Fae lovers drifted through her mind. _Having to Stand Between _that _sort of situation would be...unpleasant. Extremely unpleasant._

"I don't know." Fujika, a young lady with cobalt hair braided down her back, shrugged. "I don't find him all that interesting. Though it's hard to find an interesting boy here who's not a pervert—or really scary. Takata's cute, but he..."

"Who's Takata?" Clarice noticed a flicker of black in her peripheral vision and looked that way. Her eyes narrowed. The tall student watching them was handsome—very much so—but there was something about him she didn't like. Her spine stiffened, and she lowered her head, directing a challenge to him. _You want to start something? _

He made an odd face—either curling his lip or smirking, at that distance it was hard to tell which—and disappeared.

"—one of the security team." Fujika apparently had not noticed. "He's different from what they used to be; they _used _to be nothing but a bunch of thugs. It's better lately, and they've got some new members. He's one of the new ones. He actually cares about keeping the peace, not just about threatening anyone who disagrees with them."

"I think your cousin knows him," offered a stick-thin girl whose turquoise hair constantly fell in her eyes. "Takata was the one who took care of that lizard-man after their fight yesterday. And Joseph acted like he knew him."

"Not knew him. He'd just seen him before." Clarice dismissed the lurking creep from her mind. "On our way to the school, Joseph dropped his traveling case on the lizard-men; it was so heavy it pinned all three of them. He went back to get it later, with one of the security team, so he didn't have to fight those guys once he picked the trunk up." She saw their confusion and waved a hand. "There's a spell on the trunk. He can always move it, no matter how heavy it gets."

"Oh."

"Hey, Clarice!"

She turned again to see Yukari running toward them. "Oh, hello again!" _I wonder if there is a reason the Faerie Call is only to be used for emergencies._ The other girls sighed, but didn't offer to walk away as the little girl joined them.

"What are you doing?" Yukari cocked her head at Clarice curiously as she fell in step with them.

"Just walking around the campus, trying to learn my way around." Clarice smiled down at her. "I was homeschooled all my life; this is a new experience for me." She glanced around. "I'm still trying to get used to all the people."

"Homeschooled?" Yukari was not the only one who looked interested. "How does that work? And why did you have to be homeschooled?"

"Homeschooling is just having school at home. I really liked it, actually; just for starters, we could take a lot of field trips." Clarice grinned at the memory. "You know I come from America, right? We went all over the place; Grand Canyon, South Dakota Badlands, Mount Rainier, Carlsbad Caverns. We even hiked the Appalachian Trail once. _That _was one heck of a walk, let me tell you. Mom had to quit, but my dad and I went the whole way. And I..." She twisted the anti-dazzle charm around her wrist. "I had to be homeschooled because of my bloodline. I've got a lot of Elf in me, and Elves have a...really strong pull for the opposite sex. If I'd gone to public school, the boys wouldn't have ever left me alone."

"So how come you can do it now?" Kuchito frowned, trying to understand.

Clarice held up her left wrist. "This glass bracelet is called an anti-dazzle charm. It blocks that pull, so the boys don't feel drawn to me. They might watch me anyway, because it doesn't make me look ugly; but they won't...feel like they _have _to come after me."

"Huh. That's interesting." Fujiko looked over the charm curiously. "Could you make one of those?"

"Me? No. It took the foremost wardcaster in the States to even start to make this work. I can only cut small wards."

"Could you teach me to cut wards?" Yukari grinned up at her eagerly. "I know I can't learn that call because I'm not an Elf, but surely I could make wards!"

"I could teach you a few things," Clarice answered. _Harmless things. Protective ones_. "Just the really simple wards, though; they're the only ones I know. I'm not in training to become a Wardcaster, just a Chronicler."

"Okay!" Yukari beamed. Thankfully, neither she nor the other girls thought to ask what a Chronicler was; Clarice wasn't sure she could explain without betraying herself. Though...looking at the odd gleam in Yukari's eyes, she doubted the girl was thinking about that. Yukari looked back up at her. "Are any of these wards...love charms?"

"Uhh...no." _And I do _not _want to know why she asked. _"I don't know any of us who do love charms. The only ones I really know how to do are the ones Mom taught me when we went hiking; some shields, a compass ward to keep you from getting lost, and one to keep off big predators like bears and cougars." The other girls snickered. "Mountain lions, you goofs, not _that _kind of cougar! Wrong habitat." She rubbed her armband. "I have a...powerful other side, but it isn't always reliable."

"Oh, is that why you wear that armband?" Yukari peered at the embossed silver. "I guess it's like Moka or Kyle's seal, then."

"I guess. I haven't met either of them, so I'm not sure. I had to get this when I turned twelve, because I couldn't control when it decided to come out." She worked her wrist, then reached up again to brush a few locks of hair out of her face. "And my other side is...let's just say I have a lot of sympathy for Bruce Banner."

Blank looks greeted her on all sides. "Who's Bruce Banner?"

Clarice shook her head. "You guys are really out of touch in here."

Movement over by the boy's dorm caught her eye, and she looked over to see Joseph, talking to a couple of boys she hadn't seen before. He held a bo staff, switching it from hand to hand in a way that looked partly like careless ease and partly like a nervous tic. He laughed about something and shrugged, then stiffened, staring hard at a spot she couldn't see. A moment later, he relaxed again—but not all the way.

_Huh. I wonder...maybe that weirdo I saw earlier is watching him, too. Though why I couldn't start to guess._

Then—

Clarice shrieked in shock as something large, black, and feathery crashed into her from overhead. Claws scraped her face, and her hands jerked up to protect her eyes. The other girls screamed too, reeling back, a few starting to run off.

Whatever had hit her grabbed her right wrist and—no. Not the wrist. The armband. It yanked hard enough to pull it off.

"No!" Clarice grabbed for it desperately. "Give that back, you thief!"

Foul-smelling wings buffeted her, knocking her to the ground. She landed—it took off, flying into the trees. Dark clouds billowed in front of her eyes.

_No_. She rolled over, breathing deeply, trying to keep under control. _No! It's not needed! Don't—don't— _

"Keep her calm!" Footsteps raced past her, shouting to the other girls. "Strong emotions set her off. Try to calm her down! I'm going after that harpy!"

"Harpy?" Yukari wavered in place, looking around wildly. "Was that what that was?"

Joseph ran backward a few steps. "Try to calm her down!" He wheeled around again and vanished in a blur.

Clarice breathed deeply, trying to ignore Yukari, Kuchito, and a few others, crowding around her and trying a number of different tactics. Her limbs trembled, trying to expand. Her back screamed with the effort of holding her wings in, and she could feel her teeth and nails sharpening. _No... no... no... no..._

"Oh my gosh," breathed a horrified voice near her. "She's—is that—she's turning _blue_."

* * *

Joseph ran harder than he'd pushed himself before, his vision tunneled on the human-headed bird creature in front of him, clumsily trying to gain altitude. Silver glinted in its claw—the armband. He readied the staff, his moves as clear in his mind as if he were seeing them happen.

_Gain altitude_. He leaped through the trees, bounding from one trunk to the other, springing on a level once he reached ten feet. _Take aim_. Fortunately, the harpy couldn't maneuver well; he could only imagine how hard it would be if the creature was part eagle or hawk instead of half vulture. He drew his arm back, balancing the staff like a javelin. _And throw! _

His aim was not quite perfect, which was why he aimed for the larger target of the bird's rear end, rather than her claw. The staff smacked her right under the tail. With a startled screech, she lost her coordination, crashing down through the trees. Joseph was on her before she could so much as push herself up, retrieving the staff and ripping the armband out of her claw.

"Thanks! I'll take that back now!" He wheeled and went back, hoping he would be in time.

* * *

Clarice knelt, head low, her breathing growing deep and stentorian. The other students had drawn back, watching her in terrified fascination. _Fools_, she thought. _If I lose control...they should be running _now_. They might not be able to if I change. _The worst part was, she was so much more aware of them. She _knew _them; all of them. Their true natures, their real strength, their power; it was all laid bare. In her human aspect, she could be fooled. A Demon-Seeming could not be.

_Thank God Kurumu's not around,_ she thought in a tiny, back pocket of her mind. The presence of a natural enemy would rip away all desire to keep from transforming. She dug into the ground, nails grown into claws scoring deep furrows into the earth. Her skin had turned entirely blue-black, and all it would take was one slip of her will to release the rest of it. And her will was getting weaker.

"Clarice!"

Joseph came flying up beside her in a spray of dirt, landing on one knee and grabbing for her wrist. Her head jerked up, she bared her teeth to snarl at him-

Then she collapsed on the ground as he slipped her armband back on, abruptly removing the mental war. Joseph sank back, breathing hard.

"Wow. That was way too close."

"You have no idea." Her limbs felt like putty. With the supernatural strength of her other side gone, she was having trouble convincing her body that normal human strength was enough—and besides which, she was tired from the struggle of not letting her other side loose.

Joseph put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Wore out. That was hard."

"I _bet_. Can you stand?"

Clarice lifted her head to stare at him. "Are you joking? I almost can't roll over." She dropped her head back into dirt. "Took almost everything I had to keep from changing."

"Okay, I think you need to get either to the nurse's office or back to your dorm. Would it be weird if I picked you up?"

"You drop me and I'll bop you one with _Lorien_ once I'm up to it again." Clarice grunted as he slid his hands under her, turning her over so that the hold was a little less awkward.

"I've never dropped anyone—except Melody, once, and that was because Rachel clocked me from behind hard enough to knock me out." Joseph stood. "You're not heavy enough to give me any problems. Where to, nurse's office or dorm?"

"Nurse's office." Clarice sagged, not strong enough to even help him a little. "Girl's dorm would be weird. Nurse might have some vitamins, or an energy drink or something."

"All right." Joseph walked toward the building, ignoring the looks he got as he did. "Let's get you inside."

* * *

(**1**)(**2**)_ All women born to They Who Stand Between have one of two gifts that emerge when they reach eighteen years: Healer and Judge. Healers have a powerful gift of healing in their right hand, as well as being more naturally sympathetic and comforting. Judges are sterner, though not always stricter, and are the ones who have the ability to restore order to a room in chaos by just standing up and Looking. Judges use their left hand to determine the innocence or guilt of whoever they touch, and are most renowned for instantly bringing death to black magicians and Fae preying on humans. _

**Poster's Note: From now on, updates will be sporadic since this was the last chapter that was written ahead of time. We've also gotten a few questions as to Kurumu's actions as of late. These will be explained in a later chapter, and it will also be mentioned in Behind Blue Eyes. Post recommendations or ideas in the reviews, tell us what you think so far, but above all, keep it appropriate.  
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**PS: If you still don't like the story and think it's complete and utter crap, keep in mind you are on a website for fanfiction, where the quality would be just decent at best with a select few being phenomenal (I'm no exception). **


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